


Magesong

by fuzzballsheltiepants



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: AFTG Big Bang 2020, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Arranged Marriage, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Kidnapping, Implied/Referenced Slavery, M/M, Mages, Magical Violence, discussions of consent, soulmates by choice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:47:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 54,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26440636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzzballsheltiepants/pseuds/fuzzballsheltiepants
Summary: Ten years ago, Neil and his mother fled from his violent Fire mage father, leaving the kingdom of Ravenar and his childhood friends behind.  Now alone, his magic stripped from him, Neil finds himself a spoil of war, sold by the new king of Ravenar into marriage with the prince of Palmetto in an attempt to buy peace.  Nothing goes quite as he expects: he regains his lost magic, makes new friends, and reconnects with old ones.  But even as he starts to form a magical bond with Prince Andrew, a threat lurks on the horizon, and he must stop it before war breaks out again.
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 282
Kudos: 618
Collections: AFTG Big Bang 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nerdzeword](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdzeword/gifts), [llheji](https://archiveofourown.org/users/llheji/gifts).



> This has been a journey, and I have too many people to thank:
> 
> To Nikotheamazingspoonklepto, Gluupor, and Leahelisabeth, the most amazing mods a BB could ask for.
> 
> To Leahelisabeth for inadvertently starting me on the journey to this fic to begin with by giving me what she no doubt thought would be a nice simple exchange prompt.
> 
> To Gluupor for listening to me babble on about this for a while and then, as nicely as humanly possible, pointing out that this was perhaps a bit much for an exchange but would make a good BB. And then reading the finished product to help me smooth out the details a bit.
> 
> To Foxsoulcourt for being my cheerleader and hashing out the plot with me over and over again.
> 
> To Tntwme for the beta and for knowing a bit too well how my brain works.
> 
> And to my amazing artists, Nerdzeword and llheji, whose pieces make this come to life brilliantly. You guys are an inspiration.
> 
> This will update every other day!
> 
> Art in this first chapter is by the incredible @nerdzeword!

Neil stirred; something was different for the first time in days. There was a change in the air seeping through the barred window of the transport wagon. It was heavy with the perfume of flowers and the salt of the sea; both foreign and as familiar as the crackle of flames.

He pushed himself into a sitting position, ignoring the pounding in his head. A quick inventory showed his situation hadn’t improved while he’d been unconscious. His face throbbed; his chest burned against the rough fabric of his shirt; the smell of urine and his own unwashed body made him retch. Dampers still dug into his wrists and shackled his ankles. It was futile, but Neil reached inward for his power anyway. All he found was an aching emptiness.

The road seemed to have leveled out. Neil risked peering out the narrow opening. Rolling verdant hills greeted him, dotted with fat sheep and red cattle. Even the trees were different, not the first he had seen through the bars of his dungeon but broad, leafy, heavy with fruit. No wonder King Kengo had tried to take this land. No wonder he had failed.

The swaying of the wagon ceased as the sun sent its last fingers of light into his prison. Sweat prickled under Neil’s ragged clothes, and he longed for the crisp emptiness of mountain air, the wind so strong it felt like it could carry him away.

Someday.

Heavy footsteps scuffed the ground, and he shrank back into the corner of the wagon. “Rise and shine, Your Lordship,” came a rough, mocking voice. “Your husband awaits.”

The wagon doors were unlocked, and before Neil could even move his arms were seized and he was dragged to the ground. He felt a hand on his ankle and kicked out, his heel connecting satisfyingly with the chin of the soldier at his feet. The man’s head snapped back and he dropped Neil’s legs with a hoarse curse. The hands around his arms tightened painfully, and Neil flailed wildly, trying to wrench himself free. He got one arm out and twisted, his bare feet finding purchase—

“Junior.” The sing-song taunting voice froze him where he crouched. “By all means keep it up. I’ve been looking for an excuse.” Bile rose in his throat; there was only one thing that could mean, but he had to look, he had to know _who_. He dragged his eyes up.

Lola stood next to a tall, dark-haired, gray-eyed man, her hand on his bare arm. The man’s face was familiar; once as well-known to Neil as his own, but the years had worn away the softness and left Jean looking as if he were carved from marble. Lola’s posture was casual, and her hand looked friendly. But Jean’s eyes were frozen with terror as he met Neil’s, and Neil felt resignation wash over him. Even as Jean mouthed, _Run,_ Neil sagged in his restraints.

One blast of Lola’s power and Jean would drop, his life force released into the world.

The sound of Lola’s laugh grated into Neil’s aching head, and she spun on her heel, dragging Jean with her. “Clean him up.”

The men stripped him, tearing the filthy sweat-stained clothes and leering at what they exposed. “The Monster gets a new plaything,” one of them sneered, dipping a cloth into cold water then scrubbing with excessive force at the barely-healing wounds on Neil’s chest.

The soldier twisting Neil’s arms grunted. “Too bad we won’t be around to have fun with what’s left of him.”

“From what I hear, the Monster doesn’t share,” the man Neil had kicked growled. “He’ll use him until he’s bored, and then our fine young friend here will disappear. Never to be seen again.”

The first man prodded at Neil’s ass with his cloth, laughing when Neil flinched away. “Better get used to it, Your Lordship. That’s all you’re good for now anyway.” He tugged at the chain connecting Neil’s dampers, with a suggestive glance at his groin.

Neil nearly choked swallowing his response. His eyes flicked involuntarily to where Lola stood, that hand now on Jean’s back, a predatory smile playing on her painted lips. “Now now,” she said, “don’t spoil the goods. The king made a promise.”

That didn’t stop the jeering, but they dressed Neil with cruel efficiency in fine clothes he had never seen before. The chains connecting his hands and feet had to be removed, but the dampers remained, chafing against raw and broken skin. Still, there was a relief in being able to stretch his limbs. The hills called to him; the trees and the sky and the sea all whispered his name. But despite the sudden freedom of his limbs, he was tethered by the hand on Jean’s skin.

Hoofbeats, muffled on the grass, had him glancing over his shoulder. Half a dozen horses were led forward, and he had to stifle a cry as he recognized Tilka. He hadn’t realized she had survived their capture all those months ago, but here she was, her coat gleaming copper in the pinkish light of the setting sun.

She nudged his chest with her nose as soon as she was in reach, and he hissed as he felt the wounds open up. With his power dampened, he wasn’t even able to access his accelerated healing, and he wondered for a moment if blood would seep through the useless finery. But then, perhaps that was why they had chosen red and black for the silk.

Rough hands grabbed him and heaved him up onto Tilka’s back. She shifted underneath him, yanking against the bit that held her. Neil rubbed a soothing hand up her neck. _Not yet,_ he told her silently. _Not until Jean is free._

But Lola swung up behind Jean, wrapping one arm securely around his waist. Neil’s fingers tightened in Tilka’s mane as he cursed under his breath in every language he knew. The boy at Tilka’s head glanced up at him, an apology in his eyes, and Neil bit down on the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood.

The party grew quiet as they rounded a slope, revealing a castle in the distance, rising above the town whose margins they skirted. It was a massive structure, nearly as big as Castle Evermore, but built of a bright white stone that stood out like a beacon under the rising moon.

Horns sounded, heralding their arrival. Tilka shifted restively underneath him at the noise. Neil wiped his sweaty palms against the silky material of his pants. Such was his fate, he thought wryly: released from one dungeon, only to be faced with another.

The Monster. He had heard the rumors, long before his capture. As cold and ruthless as the stone he commanded. It had been he who had finally earned the victory in the brief, bloody war. It had been he who had cracked open the very earth, swallowing Kengo and his entire command whole. Neil had been a mountain away, but even deep in the bowels of Evermore he had felt the ground shake.

“So much power.” The murmurs had rippled through the halls. “Too much, for one man.”

Neil still didn’t know how he had gotten dragged into this, how somehow he had been promised to the man who could topple mountains. Why such a man would even want him. Neil was an unknown on this side of the ocean, taken from Ravenar by his mother before the first embers of his power had begun to stir. He had returned to Ravenar only three months ago, bound in dampers; and so he had remained. Stripped of his power, beaten down, starved and caged like an animal. The son of his famous father, yes, but little else.

He was a strange choice, as a spoil of war. Yet here he was.

They were met at the castle gates by a guard of twenty. He scanned the group; mostly regulars, but there were two mages, wearing the badges of their power. A tall one, hooded but carrying themselves with the haughty posture of royalty, marked by the symbol of an Air mage; and a smaller one, white hair gleaming in the moonlight, her Water mage brooch pinned to her shoulder. The Water mage met Neil’s eyes, staring into and through him with cool assessment, and he looked away.

The gate clanged shut behind him, and his breath came tight in his chest. He had lost his chance, his last chance at freedom. Spots flickered before his eyes, and Tilka danced sideways as his hold on her mane tightened. Trapped. Trapped, he was going to be trapped here until he died—

A warm hand rested against his knee and he flinched, but the motion pulled perfumed air into his lungs. It was the Water mage, but she did not look at him, just exchanged a few quiet words and a smile with the stable boy at Tilka’s head. Once he could breathe properly the hand disappeared, and still, she didn’t look at him.

They followed the torch-lit path up to the castle doors, which arched far above them even on their horses. On dismounting, Neil’s knees gave way; he stumbled backwards, and a broad hand steadied him. Jean, his other arm trapped in Lola’s grasp. It had been a decade since Jean had touched him; a decade since they had run laughing through Evermore, getting under the washer-women’s feet and climbing trees in the orchard in search of the ripening fruit. Since Neil’s mother had stolen off with him in the night, and Neil had been forbidden to so much as whisper the names of his friends.

Jean’s eyes had aged a century since then, but still his touch was kind. Lola watched them with her asp’s smile, and as soon as Neil was solid on his feet Jean pulled away, the stoic mask unbroken. The exchange did not go unnoticed by the other mages. Neil straightened, his chin going up as he met their eyes. He would not go into this like a coward.

The walk to the throne room was endless. Neil’s stomach gnawed at the aroma of roasted meat and herbed potatoes that wafted through the halls. He tried to remember the last time he had eaten anything, but it had been before he had bolted out the wagon door, however many days ago. Before Lola had yanked enough of his life force to send him stumbling, before she had followed it up with fists and blade. Since then he had greedily downed the occasional cups of water shoved through the bars, but that was it.

The large room they entered was decorated with comfort in mind, rather than opulence. Neil blinked at the cushioned chairs, all set around one large round table, none finer than the others. A group of men and women clustered around a banquet, watching as their group approached. Lola released Jean’s arm as she neared the group, dropping into a reluctant bow. The rest of their party followed suit, and Neil considered just sagging to the floor. But sharp eyes on him had him jerking upright.

The man who must be King Wymack stood at the front of the group, tall and thick with muscle. Tattoos graced his bared forearms, all the different Magics twisted together, flames blending into air, into water, into rock and tree before they disappeared under his sleeves. A warrior and a Life mage, he had won his throne rather than been born to it. Neil and his mother had heard the whispers even overseas, of the warrior’s plan to create a just and fair kingdom. She had scoffed at the transparent lie. “A just kingdom born of bloodshed and ambition. Stay away from there, Abram. No matter what, promise me.”

It wouldn’t be the first promise to his mother he had broken.

The king studied him, mouth tightening as he went. Neil suppressed a flinch, dragging his eyes away from the fury he could see etched on every line of the king’s face. On either side of the king stood two identical mages: short, broad, golden-haired, with eyes as hard as topaz. Behind the twins were two women, both wearing expressions of benign concern. Further back yet hovered more mages. His mouth went dry at the collection of power before him. There was no hope of running now.

“I was under the impression,” the king said slowly, “that he was coming to us willingly.”

“And unharmed,” added the right-hand twin, his voice as flat and cold as the tundra. The left-hand twin said nothing, but his attention did not waver from Neil’s face.

Lola raised her head, her arrogance palpable. “And I was under the impression you needed to replace your Fire mage.”

“Is a man so easily replaced?” asked the Water mage who had accompanied Neil from the gate.

“A mage is a weapon, nothing more.”

“You look at us, at yourself, and that is all you see?”

The Water mage’s voice was gentle; the air in the room crackled as her words rippled through the small crowd. Lola cursed under her breath; Neil suspected only Jean and he could hear it, but the king’s frown deepened. “Your Majesty,” Lola said, attempting to school her tone into something pleasant, “I assure you, Nathaniel is here as a willing participant in this union between our two countries.”

“The dampers he wears would say otherwise,” said the king.

“As would the rest of him,” added the right-hand twin. Neil didn’t know what his face looked like; his lip still stung when he prodded it with his tongue, though the swelling in his eye had gone down. “This is a farce,” the twin went on, leaning across the king to speak to his brother, who may as well have been a statue for all that he responded. “We don’t even know for sure he’s really a Fire mage. Or Lord Nathan’s son. He could just be a blacksmith apprentice with an unfortunate resemblance, for all we can tell.”

“Are you saying you would break the truce and start another war, over an unfounded fear that His Lordship might reject your prince?” Lola asked, not trying to keep the scorn out of her voice. “After all the losses on both sides? I thought you prided yourself on fairness, Your Majesty. We kept our side of the bargain.”

The king’s nostrils flared. “You think that you are immune to what I can do, Lady? You forget what lies I can smell on your breath.” He glanced at Neil, who fought to control his trembling, then turned back to Lola. “Leave us. All of you,” he added, with a nod at his mages.

Lola smirked at Neil as she passed him, her hand wrapped securely around Jean’s wrist in a silent threat. The others filed out after her, everyone save the silent twin and the king. The door clanged shut behind them.

The king strode closer, and Neil couldn’t stop himself from stepping back. It was strange, to see the king freeze, to have him not lash out with a casual fist but turn to his companion. “Andrew,” the king said. “What do you wish to do?”

Andrew—the Monster, Neil’s sluggish brain realized, the most powerful Earth mage on the continent. Neil’s betrothed. A hysterical laugh threatened to bubble out of Neil’s throat, and he fought to swallow it down. The man who was so feared was shorter yet than Neil himself, though his clothes did little to hide his powerful build. He stepped forward, his head cocked to the side as he scanned Neil from head to toe.

The Monster’s voice was as dry and dull as stone. “He signs the contract free of the dampers, or we send the whole party back to Ichirou in pieces.”

Neil was startled out of his silence. “You would murder all those people?”

“It speaks.” There was a sly twist to the Monster’s mouth. “I’m surprised you care about their fate, since they so obviously do not care about yours.”

Neil thought of Jean, dragged along for who knew what purpose. Of the stable boy who had cared for Tilka and the other horses, his hands gentle on her bridle. Of the soldier who had snuck Neil extra bread, until he had been forced to stop after Neil’s thwarted escape. He thought of what the power before him could do to them all, and he clamped his mouth shut on his retort.

The king studied them both, then turned to the Monster. “I will have his dampers removed. We will restore his powers before we present him with the contract, and then it will be his choice.”

The prince shrugged; Neil assumed this was acquiescence, as a moment later the doors swung open and the Ravenar soldiers were readmitted. Someone—a page—murmured in Lola’s ear, and she shot a venomous glare at the king before rummaging in her pocket and withdrawing a key. “He came to us wearing these,” she said, hesitating. “He is untrained in managing his powers.”

“Remove them,” ordered the prince, from where he lounged against the wall. His pose looked casual, but something flickered in his stony eyes. Lola must have observed it as well, for she approached without another protest.

One by one, the fetters loosened, then fell to the ground. Neil felt strangely buoyant without them, as if he might fly upward like a spark from a campfire, disappearing into the night sky that arced above the rooftops. He stared at his hands, his wrists ringed with scabbed-over scars, and took a deep breath. With the air, power rushed into him, headier than wine. Sparks flew between his fingers, orange and blue and white, and he started to laugh before the world went dark and he knew no more.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Neil learns the terms of the arrangement with Palmetto, and makes a choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The art in this chapter is by the amazing @llheji!

The low muttering of unfamiliar voices woke him. Neil didn’t move, didn’t let his eyelids so much as flutter as he tried to parse out where he was. Not the dungeons; there was no stink of piss and fear and rats. Light flickered, and he could feel the heat of a fire behind him. His wrists and ankles felt—naked, minus their familiar fetters, and he didn’t know why he felt the urge to tuck them under his body. And it was there, deep within him: the glowing of embers.

_Welcome back, friend,_ he thought. His power stirred in response, a questioning trill, and he hushed it before it could make the flames jump. But something gave him away; he felt cool hands brush against his temple. “Nathaniel?”

The voice was soft, the sighing of wind through tree boughs. A request, not a demand. He blinked, and found a woman sitting next to the couch he was laying on. She had been in the throne room, at the king’s right hand; the queen, then. But there was nothing about her of royalty right now, just warmth and concern.

She glanced over her shoulder, and a young woman approached with a tray. “When was the last time you’ve eaten, Nathaniel?” the queen asked.

His voice had not awoken with him, he found; he shook his head, and she merely nodded, her kind eyes tightening as she helped him into a sitting position. “Let’s get you some food, and then we’ll see how you feel. You have too much power to sustain without eating, it will burn you alive.” Her tone was matter-of-fact, with none of the apprehension Neil was used to lacing her words. For in his experience, everyone feared fire.

Of course with him, fire wasn’t even the worst of it, but they didn’t know that. Nobody did.

The tray was placed in his lap, and he reached out for a spoon—and froze, staring at his wrist. His clean, unblemished wrist. There was no sign of the deep sores that the dampers had worn into his skin, none of the bruising. His other wrist was the same. His eyes met the queen’s.

She smiled gently. “I am a Healer, Nathaniel. Every member of our court is a mage. Now eat, and rest, and when you are ready I will let Andrew and David back in.”

Neil didn’t know who David was, but with the food in front of him he wasn’t sure he cared. It was a simple meal, porridge thick with cream, sweetened with crushed raspberries and cinnamon, and it may have been the best thing he had ever eaten in his life. Too soon, it was gone, and a mug of tea after it. His magic rumbled, not quite sated, and the queen gave him an apologetic smile. “If that stays down, you can have more in a little while.” She dusted her hands off on her pants. “Now, are you ready to deal with the others, Nathaniel?”

“Neil,” he corrected, then cleared the rust from his throat. “It’s Neil.”

“Neil,” she said, with another smile. “Just sit right there. I’ll let them in, but if they’re being too much let me know and I can kick them back out again.”

He blinked at that; he hadn’t observed the prince for very long, but it didn’t seem like he would be easily persuaded to do anything. The queen went and opened the door, and he heard her order sternly, “Now be nice, you two, he’s been through enough for one day.”

There was a deep scoff, and Neil craned his head around to see the king follow the prince in. He waited for the mysterious David, or for Lola to be escorted in, but the door closed on the four of them, the prince taking up post against the wall. The king glanced around for a moment, then dragged a chair over to sit next to Neil’s couch. Neil tried not to think what the king’s Life magic was sensing. His mother had tried to keep him far from Life mages, never trusting their ability to read power, to read intentions, to read truths and lies. Never trusting Neil not to fall under their influence, either; the siren’s call of being so completely understood had been the undoing of more than one desperate mage. “Nathaniel.”

“Neil,” the queen corrected quickly. “He prefers to be called Neil, David.” Neil blinked at that; he had never known another mage to go by more than one name.

“Neil. This is not how we planned this going, if I’m being honest with you. Andrew wasn’t overly enthusiastic about this whole arrangement, but he was present for the negotiations and ultimately did agree to it. With your father having been killed—”

An involuntary noise escaped Neil’s throat. He hadn’t known, not really. Nobody ever talked to him, and though rumors scurried like mice through the dungeons, he had never been able to confirm the truth of that particular one. Sparks danced deep within him, their song joyous and untamed, and he couldn’t quite keep the torches from flaring in their brackets. The prince glanced up at the torch above his head, but did not bother to move away. The king’s brow furrowed; Neil just nodded at him to continue, and after a second he did.

“With your father having been killed with King Kengo, the Lady Lola spoke for you. She assured both King Ichirou and myself that you would be willing to do this, that your parents had prepared you for an arranged marriage. If she was...mistaken, I am certain other arrangements can be negotiated.”

Neil blinked at him. He didn’t know what “other arrangements” might entail, but if it involved going back into Lola’s custody he wouldn’t survive the day. He glanced at the prince; the Monster, as he was called. The man looked utterly indifferent, but if Neil agreed to this it would affect him as well.

Though if the soldiers were right, perhaps the Monster didn’t mind. He’d use Neil for his pleasure, then eliminate him. But Neil hadn’t fought to stay alive for this long to give in now, and he could endure whatever the Monster had in store for him while he looked for a way to escape.

The king handed him the contract. Just a single scroll of paper to surrender his whole life. He had no idea what was the norm for these; this one talked about sharing assets—not that Neil had any that they knew of, other than apparently his father’s estate—and cooperative bonding of magic, as well as a trade deal between the two countries. No details about living arrangements, or...consummation. Nothing to indicate Neil’s role in this new court. It was a financial and magical agreement, and nothing more.

He ran a careless hand through his hair as he thought about his options. He didn’t exactly have much negotiating power, but it might be his one chance to free his friend. “Do you think it could be amended to allow me to have a valet? And my horse?”

“The horse is considered an asset, so is already settled in our stables,” the king said. “You have a valet?” There was doubt in his voice, and for good reason given the condition Neil had arrived in.

“Of sorts,” was all Neil answered. The prince snorted quietly from his spot by the door.

The king waited for more, but when none was forthcoming, he arched an eyebrow at Neil. “Is this valet a member of your party?”

Neil nodded. “Jean.”

There was movement behind him, as if the prince had twitched, but when Neil glanced back at him he was holding his casual pose. “Let him have the man,” the prince drawled. “It is of no significance.”

The king looked between them, then stood. “Very well, I will have this approved by Lady Lola, and amended.”

The queen followed him out, with a warning glare at the prince. The door closed behind them, and the room was filled with silence save for the crackle of the flames. Neil longed to reach out to them, he could feel them calling to him, but he tamped down on the impulse and listened to their chatter, letting it soothe him.

“What tales do you have to tell?” The prince’s gravel voice startled Neil out of his trance. “You’ve traveled the world, or so I hear.”

“Not as exciting as it sounds.” It was a poor lie, but Neil didn’t have it in him to get into it. He wasn’t sure what, precisely, the royal family knew, and he wasn’t about to elucidate and risk falling into a trap.

“Humor me.”

“Why should I? I don’t know you, and I’ve little incentive at the moment to waste my breath telling stories.”

“What, are you not going to at least pretend to be madly in love with your new husband?” There was nothing but dry amusement in his voice, but there was something else in his eyes that Neil couldn’t put a name to.

“You don’t seem the type to wish to be lied to,” Neil answered, “no matter how palatable the lie may be.”

“Ouch,” the prince said, with a harsh laugh. “I’m flattered, of course, that you think so highly of my moral standing.”

“Shouldn’t you be the one wooing me with tales of your achievements? I wouldn’t object to hearing how you won the war.”

The prince’s eyes sharpened. “How I killed your father, you mean?” His tone was mocking, and Neil was certain that he knew, somehow he knew, how Neil had felt at the news. “Perhaps we should save that topic for a less festive occasion.”

“I’m not sure why,” Neil said; it may have been stupid of him, but he had little to lose and he savored the taste of honesty on his tongue. “I consider that a feat worthy of celebration.”

“No love lost, I take it? I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, from what I heard of dear Nathan and his fondness for burning flesh.” Neil kept his face carefully blank as the prince leaned forward to study him. “Well, as eager as you are for the story, it will probably be a bit anticlimactic. There is not a lot a man can do, no matter what his talents, when crushed under a few tons of rock.”

Neil inclined his chin in agreement. “I was more curious regarding how he came to be with the king. My impression was they more typically covered different territories.”

There was a brief pause. “Perhaps they had a reason to wish to combine their abilities.”

An interesting way of phrasing. Neil thought about that, about Kengo’s Air powers, and Nathan’s much stronger Fire magic. Effective, if they had a reason to burn a vast space. But why…

“You lured them there.”

“Well, not me personally.” His smile turned vicious. “I was simply waiting.”

Before Neil could ask more, the king returned, alone this time. “The Lady has agreed to the inclusion of Jean, though I must say she was a bit...reluctant.”

Of course she was. No doubt she was looking forward to taking out her frustration on Neil’s friend. It chafed at Neil, that Jean was being treated like chattel; an asset, of little more importance than the horse. Perhaps he could persuade the king to release him, once Lola was clear of the kingdom.

The contract was presented to him again, and this time he signed it, sending just a whisper of his magic into the ink so it flared orange, before fading into black. The Monster signed it next, his own magic a metallic bronze. The king signed as a witness, the ink a rich crimson, and then the paper was folded away.

The king rose. “The ceremony will take place a month from now. Welcome to the family, Neil. Dan will show you to your room.”

Dan turned out to be another Life mage, little taller than Neil himself but radiating calm power. She greeted him warmly, then led the way to his rooms. “I will spare you the full tour until you’ve had a chance to rest,” she said, turning down yet another hallway. “Or you’re welcome to explore yourself. Just don’t count on Andrew to help you out.” Neil snorted at that, and Dan shot him a conspiratorial grin.

The room itself was a comfortable size, not over-large, with a generous featherbed and an ornate fireplace. A fire was already burning, despite the warm evening; a covered plate sat on the small table that stood in front of it. As soon as Dan left him alone, he crossed to the windows and threw them open wide. Night air, scented with flowers and distant rain, swirled into his room, and he breathed deeply. His room sat a few stories up, but there was a convenient tree adjacent to his window, and an orchard lay not far beyond; it seemed the whole grounds were dotted with other hiding spots. It would take him no time at all to plot an escape route, yet that didn’t call to him, not tonight.

He might still be imprisoned, but at least this prison had the illusion of freedom, and for now, that was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm kind of blown away by the response so far, thank you so much! Can't wait to see what you think of this chapter, and so excited to post the next one, which really starts to dig into Neil's new life and how it intersects with his old.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Neil starts to explore his new home, talks to an old friend and a current enemy, and begins the truth game with Andrew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art for this chapter by the always-incredible @llheji!

The next morning dawned bright and clear. Neil listened to the birdsong out his window while he ate, wondering what tales they had to tell. The fire had gone out in the night, but the embers remained; Neil would have no trouble coaxing it back, should he wish.

He puttered around the room, scanning the books on the well-stocked shelves: a mix of novels Neil had never heard of, histories of the kingdom and the continent, books on birds and flowers, insects and trees. It reminded him of his childhood friend, a prince in Castle Evermore who adored the histories of humans and nature with equal fervor. Neil had teased him, hiding his books and the carved wooden figurines of birds he treasured until he had been scolded by his mother. Yet they had also played, a made-up game with a stick and a ball of twine, arguing and chasing each other around the lawn until they had collapsed, panting and laughing, in the shade.

Neil shook off the cobwebs of memory and continued his exploration. The wardrobe was filled with unfamiliar clothes, loose comfortable things in rich colors he couldn’t imagine wearing; his mother would have made him burn such beautiful things. But the fabric was soft, and his fingers lingered before he turned away and resolutely closed the door.

Sunlight glinting off of metal caught his eye, and he crossed the room in a flash. He didn’t know how he hadn’t noticed it before, but his hand was trembling as he reached out to touch it. A braided leather cord, simple and unassuming, with a cast steel pendant hanging from it. He would have thought it was the one he had been gifted upon the appearance of his powers, but there was a leaping fox engraved near the hook, tiny and perfect, where a raven had sat before. His free hand reached up to his throat, empty as it had been since he had woken up in fetters.

He wanted to ask how, but there was no one to question; he hooked it around his own neck, the comforting weight of it nestling into the hollow of his collarbones. The cold metal soon warmed against his skin, and he found himself touching it often as he continued his exploration.

Jean appeared as Neil was investigating the bathing room, hovering awkwardly in the doorway. “Nath—My Lord?” he asked, and flames flared in the fireplace at the icy reserve in his voice. Neil swallowed down the fire in his throat, nearly choking on it, and the fire disappeared as quickly as it had risen.

“Don’t call me that,” Neil said, and he didn’t even know if he meant Nathaniel or Lord. “Just—Neil. Please.”

Jean stared at him for a moment, then turned to start water for the bath. Neil moved to stop him; he didn’t know why. After all, he had been the one to suggest this, but his stomach crawled at the idea of his friend serving him. Jean ignored him, his movements abrupt as he opened the tap to allow the tub to fill, stoking the brazier underneath it and setting out towels and soap.

The bath warmed quickly, and Neil’s muscles, stiff from days trapped in the wagon, longed for the soothing heat. But when Jean reached to help him undress, he shied away. “I don’t need help.” Jean hesitated, then gave a short bow and turned to leave. “Why are you so formal with me?”

“Because I am your servant.”

Neil rubbed his face; he needed at least another night or two’s sleep before he could deal with this, but evidently he was not to be granted that. “You are not my servant.”

Jean blinked, a kaleidoscope of emotions flickering across his face that Neil had no hope of interpreting. “Then why did you ask for me as your valet?”

“Because I wish to keep my friend nearby.” Jean gave a tiny huff and turned to leave. “You are still my friend, aren’t you?”

Jean paused, but he did not turn around as he answered, “I was never meant to be your friend.” And then he was gone, leaving Neil to the murmured flickering of the brazier that would bring him no warmth now.

* * *

Neil wandered down halls brilliant with paintings and tapestry, searching for a way out of the castle. It seemed like he was trapped in an endless loop, every turn bringing him to a different corridor, a different stairwell, yet though the view changed out the windows the ground never got any closer. His mother would have laughed at him, getting lost inside a building; and then she would have made sure he never forgot his way again.

A breeze blew past him playfully, rippling the tapestry, brushing his hair back from his forehead with invisible fingers. The air here was flirtatious, and he leaned out the window, listening to its low laughter as it stirred the leaves on the trees in the orchard. Below him, the grounds were bustling with people, just ordinary people going about their ordinary day under the ordinary sun.

It felt like standing on the edge of an impossible dream. Like a memory dredged up after a decade, soft and comfortable, the pain worn away with time.

A pair of people in loose mage’s clothes crossed the lawn, heading for the woods beyond the fields. One of the twins and a tall, black-haired man Neil hadn’t seen the night before. He couldn’t see their faces; they walked shoulder to shoulder with the ease of familiarity, the tall one shortening his strides to match his companion.

It twisted something in Neil’s chest, to see them so easy together. He turned away from the window, all the more determined to find his way outside. When he was halfway down the hall, he heard footsteps behind him; a glance over his shoulder showed Lola emerging from a room he had just passed. His heart leaped into his throat, and he struggled to swallow it down. Deep in his core, his magic stirred, questioning. _Wait,_ he told it.

“Junior.” Lola sang out the name, and he spun away as she grabbed for his arm. “Don’t be like that. I’m to leave tomorrow, once the men have rested; we could have a bit of fun in the meantime.” She reached for his groin, and laughed when he flinched out of her grasp. “I wouldn’t even spoil you for your husband, after all.”

“I would rather you kill me than bed me,” Neil spat, backing away.

“Both can be arranged,” she said, her smile sharp as a blade.

His power snarled, and he let it reach out with invisible tendrils, gathering from the torches that lined the halls. Before he could lash out, though, there was a blur of black and gold, a flash of silver, and the prince was there, a knife held to Lola’s throat.

“What were you saying?” he asked, his voice as flat and casual as if he were commenting on the weather.

Lola laughed in his face; with a twitch, her own dagger was out, angled under his sternum where it would end up in his heart. “Think your healers could get to you before you bled out?”

He grinned up at her, and for the first time Neil saw where he got his nickname. “They definitely won’t be able to get to you.”

Neil wanted to roll his eyes at their posturing, except he wasn’t certain it was merely that. He clenched his fist, and the sparks his magic had been silently collecting gathered into a ball of flame that he then punched into Lola’s side, knocking her away from Andrew. Her clothes caught, the flames leaping eagerly up towards her face. She screamed and beat at the fire licking up her arms, falling back against the wall; images of her leering at him, of her sinking her blades into his skin, of her mocking laughter, of her threatening hand on Jean’s arm, circled through his mind as he let the flames crawl along her body.

Movement in the corner of his eye brought him back to where he was. It was the prince, straightening up after his initial shock. He made no move to stop Neil; he merely watched, the flames reflected in his eyes while Lola’s screams echoed through the halls. Neil took a deep, shuddering breath and called his power back; the fire spooled back into him, leaving her shaking and smoking on the floor. Her skin was an angry red, blistering in spots, but he had spared her from what she probably deserved.

Footsteps echoed on the stairs, and he blanched as he realized others must have heard the screaming. His feet stumbled backwards, and he turned to flee, but the prince was there, wrapping a hard hand around his wrist. “Not so fast, little rabbit,” Andrew said.

Neil could have burned him; his power asked permission, but he didn’t think he would be able to excuse that as easily. He sang a silent lullaby to his power as strangers flooded into the hall, and it quieted down to embers.

* * *

The room pressed in on him; despite the high ceilings and the open windows, he couldn’t draw a full breath. Pacing helped a little, as it had in his cell; it satisfied the drive to do something at the least. Andrew sat, unmoved and unmoving, on one of the plush couches, a book in his lap. The rustle of the pages turning drove Neil mad.

Would they kill him for this? He could hear his mother’s voice hissing at him, demanding he control his powers and his temper; he could feel her fists on his skin when he had let either slip, the rarity of an unbound Fire mage drawing attention to their location. Fire was the trickiest of the elements, the most opinionated and destructive. It could be controlled, yes, by a Water or Air mage whose power equalled his own—but he had never met one. He was a danger, he knew too well how true that was.

Maybe they wouldn’t kill him. Maybe they would just replace the dampers, and make him live out his life as a normal man, a mundane. His power flickered at that notion, singing a questioning trill of notes. _I’m sorry, friend,_ he thought at it. _That would not be my wish._ It settled down, curling up in his gut like a cat, and he made another circuit of the room, his fingers clenched around his pendant.

“You’re making me dizzy,” the prince said lazily, not looking up from his book.

“I don’t see how that’s possible.” But Neil dropped onto the chair closest to the window, asking the breeze to relieve some of the stuffiness in the room. It complied, ruffling the pages of the prince’s book as it swirled past, and bringing with it the scent of freshly cut grass. When it brushed past Neil, it drew some of the restlessness out of his bones, and something eased within him.

The door swinging open had Neil leaping to his feet, much to the amusement of the prince. “What happened?” the king demanded without ceremony, coming to a stop between them with Queen Abby on his heels.

“Ask the rabbit over there,” Andrew said, gesturing with his chin in Neil’s direction.

Neil studied King Wymack’s kneecaps. “Neil?” the king asked, his tone gruff. “Care to shed some light on why Lady Lola is currently raving in the healing quarters about you being a danger?”

He dared a glance at Andrew, who raised an eyebrow in challenge. His father would probably have beaten him at best for this; but he wouldn’t have given him an opportunity to speak, either. He swallowed down the ash that had risen in his throat and dragged his eyes up to the king’s.

“Lola invited me to her bed, Your Majesty,” he said, relieved when his voice was calm and clear. “When I refused, she threatened me, and when the prince....intervened, she drew a blade on him. She believes me to be untrained, so she may have thought my powers acted outside of my control, but I assure you they did not.”

The king studied him, his arms crossed; Neil braced himself for the fallout, but after an endless minute, all he received was a huff. “You were right, Andrew,” he said, with a glance over his shoulder. “We all would be better off if she went back to Ravenar in pieces. Unfortunately, that may be considered in bad faith.”

“She could just meet with an unfortunate accident on the way,” Andrew suggested. “It’s a dangerous journey into the mountains, after all. Rock slides are a constant risk.”

The king actually laughed, though the queen shook her head at her son. “As soon as the Healers deem her ready, she and her men will be on their way whether they are fully rested or not.”

They talked a bit more, the king and the queen and the prince; Neil couldn’t quite follow the conversation, not when his mind was full of the sear of his father’s flames in his flesh. He still bore the scars of it, scattered across his torso; could still feel the ghost of the agonizing pain as the skin had blistered and peeled, could still smell the reek of charred flesh. He had been too young for his own powers to aid him, and his father had not allowed him to see a healer; his mother had done what she could with her limited abilities, but he would bear the mark until the day he died.

Somehow he found himself following Andrew through the hallways. He didn’t really know why; but the prince didn’t object, and soon took them through a doorway hidden among the paneling, then down a curving staircase to the grounds.

Neil wasn’t sure the last time he had felt grass under his feet, or had the sun’s rays play across his skin unbroken by iron bars. The air welcomed him joyously, and he closed his eyes and flung his arms out, relishing the feel of it swirling around him. _Beautiful, beautiful,_ his power sang. _Glorious, glorious,_ the air returned. It wasn’t in words, of course; just the music of feeling; and Neil’s eyes stung as he realized how empty he had felt, how much the year of nothingness had taken from him.

When the song faded, he opened his eyes to find the prince watching him. He had no particular expression on his face; Neil was learning this was his norm; but his eyes were a story unto themselves. Not that Neil understood the language, not yet. He cocked his head towards the rolling hills in silent question, and the prince shrugged and gestured him to lead the way.

He wanted to explore potential hiding spots, to find a path out of his room and into the trees, but there was no way to do that without being obvious. Instead he meandered through fields of ripening wheat, watching the birds swoop through, sometimes clinging to the stalks only to take to the skies again. After a while, he found his way down to the horse pastures, searching for a familiar white-streaked chestnut face. When he couldn’t find her, he called; and then Tilka’s head popped up from an assortment of bays and other chestnuts, and she trotted over, her tail flagging high.

She greeted him by nuzzling his cheek and then frisking him for treats. He gave her neck an apologetic rub. “Sorry, missy, I don’t have anything for you.”

“How did you end up with a horse like that?” the prince asked, ignoring the other horses who had crowded around looking for food.

“We—bought her across the sea,” Neil answered. The prince picked up on his hesitation and amusement flickered in his eyes.

“By bought, you mean stole.” Neil didn’t contradict him, and his amusement grew. “You needn’t lie to me, I don’t care what sort of crimes you committed.”

Neil stared at him, his heart pounding out of his chest. How could he know? Or was he merely guessing? It was impossible to tell, Neil suspected there would be laughter tucked into the corner of his mouth either way. “I don’t see why I should bare my heart to you and receive nothing in return.”

“Bare your heart?” The scorn in the prince’s voice was palpable. “Is telling the truth so painful? You seemed to rather enjoy it before.”

“Some truths are easier than others.”

The prince hummed, settling down into the grass. “Then let’s barter. A truth for a truth.”

Neil hesitated before following suit. Tilka snuffled in his hair for a moment before departing for her new friends and better grazing. “What do you wish to know?”

“Why did you come back to Ravenar?”

“It wasn’t by choice,” Neil said. He flopped back against the grass and watched cottony wisps of clouds pass by, too fine to even cast a shadow. “You must know there was a bounty on my head, and my magic doesn’t work when I’ve been knocked unconscious.” The prince accepted that with a gesture for Neil to ask his question. “Why did you agree to this arrangement?”

“Are you so dissatisfied to find yourself pledged to me?” The prince waved a dismissive hand. “Our choices were limited, and we needed to secure the peace. My brother is promised, so it came down to Kevin or myself, and Kevin allying himself with Ravenar would be pure idiocy.”

The ground dropped out from beneath Neil, then rushed up to hit him; the sky above swirled, and he closed his eyes to block out the motion. “Kevin?”

“Surely you haven’t forgotten your childhood friend,” the prince mocked. “Or perhaps you have, seeing as you have taken up with his lover.”

“Prince Kevin of Ravenar,” Neil said, unable to keep the hoarseness from his voice. “He lives?”

“Prince Kevin of Palmetto,” Andrew corrected. “King Wymack’s true son. Yes, he lives, unless Aaron finally had enough of him today.”

He sounded like he did not care either way, yet he had sold himself to protect Kevin. Neil tried to make sense of the rest of what the prince had said. “And you are his lover.”

Andrew gave an unprincely snort that startled the horses. “Hardly. I was referring to your so-called valet.” He waited for a moment while Neil processed that.

Jean and Kevin. It made a strange kind of sense, he supposed; though Neil had been Jean’s closer friend, he remembered the way they used to watch each other when they thought nobody had noticed. Kevin’s forest magic had begun to manifest shortly before Mary had stolen Neil away, and he had thought that was the source of Jean’s fascination. After all, Neil could remember watching, awed by the way Kevin could disappear within the trees, the way plants would dance to the song of Kevin’s power. But Jean had no power, and Kevin’s eyes lingered on him anyway.

Neil wondered if Jean had believed the lies spread in Ravenar, that Kevin had been murdered prior to the onset of the war. It had been used as a rallying cry among the peasants and soldiers. He had heard it on the ship where he had been imprisoned, then again in the dungeons, when Prince Riko himself had come down to taunt Neil with the knowledge of his friend’s demise. Neil had thought it strange; Riko and Kevin had been close as brothers, closer than with Jean or Neil. Kevin might read to Jean and Neil, might play with them, but it was an indulgence granted. Ichirou was the crown prince and heir; Riko the spare; and Kevin—Kevin was like royalty in his own right.

Yet despite their years of close affection, Riko had delighted in the idea of Kevin’s death, as much as in the prospect of Neil’s grief.

The memory of the change that ten years had wrought in Riko made Neil shudder; he wondered if Kevin, too, had changed. If he had grown haughty and cruel, taking delight in the misery of those he had once called friend.

He glanced at the prince who lounged a few feet from him now, playing with a stalk of grass. Ruthless, and hard, and cold, the rumors had said, and he had pictured the fathomless caverns of Riko’s eyes. Ruthless Prince Andrew might be; and hard as the earth he commanded; but the sun loved him as it loved the red desert rocks. “If you believed Jean to be my lover, why did you agree for him to be my valet?”

“It’s not your turn,” the prince reminded him.

Neil huffed and turned his attention back to the horses grazing along the hillside. For a while, the only sounds were the calls of birds, the wind playing through the nearby trees, and the occasional stamping of a hoof at a fly. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been able to just sit on sun-warmed grass and breathe. Maybe a handful of times while roaming the countries across the sea; a tiny respite in the endless days of movement. He had counted those moments like jewels during the long, dark nights.

“Where did you do your training?” The prince’s voice tore into Neil’s reverie, and he barely suppressed his flinch. “You said you were not untrained.”

Neil chewed on the inside of his cheek, trying to figure out how to explain. “Here and there, as we were able.” The prince waved at him to continue. “My mother taught me the initial control. On our travels we sought safe training schools, but I seldom stayed more than a few months.” Inevitably, after a time the wind had whispered in his mother’s ear rumors of hunters promising pain, and they had fled as soon as darkness fell.

“Yet your mastery of your power seems...complete.”

“Am I my power’s master?” Neil asked. “I always thought of it more as a sort of friendship.” Deep within him his power flickered, warm and appreciative.

The prince studied him with unreadable eyes. “You will get along well with Renee,” he said eventually, getting to his feet. Neil didn’t move to follow, and the prince didn’t look back as he disappeared back into the castle’s shadow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya'll are making me so happy with the response to this! I'm excited to hear what you thought of the little stand-off, and Neil's power finally getting a chance to show itself. I had a lot of fun coming up with the magic system for this fic, even if I don't really consciously remember doing it. Also, please give the artists some love - they have done such a fantastic job putting images to my words.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Neil encounters another old friend.

Neil watched from the window as Lola and her little band of soldiers disappeared through the castle gates. The breeze swirled around him, tickling his neck before darting down to blow under the horses’ tails. Lola’s mount bucked and danced sideways, and Neil felt a twinge of satisfaction as she struggled to keep her seat.

The gates swung shut, and Neil turned away. He had the rest of the afternoon stretching in front of him, and nobody seemed to care what he did. It should have been exciting, or at least soothing, but instead he just felt hollow. People bustled past him with barely a glance as he wandered the halls, as invisible as he had always wished to be.

Eventually his restless feet carried him back outside. The grounds were even more extensive than he had thought; he passed hillsides dotted with sheep and cattle, wandered through the orchard he had seen from the window, found plowed fields with their neat lines of vegetables. The forest encroached along the northern border, and after a while found himself picking along the trails that crossed between the trees. Branches rustled and Neil startled, only to find a squirrel staring bright-eyed down at him, mocking him for his fear.

“Well, you’re making a hell of a lot of noise for something so stupidly small,” Neil told the squirrel, who flicked its bushy tail and chittered at him in response. It scampered along a branch and leaped to the next tree, looking back at Neil in what seemed to be an invitation. He didn’t know why, but he found himself following it along, pushing through brush here and there until he reached a gap in the trees which revealed the wall that surrounded the grounds. It was too high and smooth to scale; unnaturally smooth; he wondered if an Earth mage had coaxed the stone into the almost glassy texture.

He turned towards the sun, where it hung low over the wall. If he were smart, he would head back to the castle before the darkness left him stranded in the trees. But the squirrel was still there, clinging to a branch a dozen yards away, and he shrugged, and laughed, and followed.

The air was different in the woods, quiet, almost solemn. It stole through the branches on invisible feet; it reminded Neil of sneaking into the king’s library at Evermore with Kevin and Jean, the only sounds the whisper of their socks against the lush carpet and their soft breathing. Kevin would find the biggest books he could lift, and they would huddle around, looking in awed silence at the illustrations of birds and animals from a far away land, creatures they would never see.

It felt more like a dream remembered than reality. But then, much of his life was like that; everything but the harsh present was hazy and soft, seen through the veil of time. On the run, hiding in one village or another, he had wondered if perhaps he had imagined his childhood, his friends. When he’d heard Kevin was dead, locked in his fetters in the hold of a ship, even his sadness had felt unreal; as if he was mourning the loss of a character in a book, an easier grief than the vast and aching hollowness his mother had left behind.

And now Kevin was alive, if Prince Andrew was to be believed. Alive and nearby.

His toe caught in a root, and he crashed down onto his hands, the jolt shocking him back to the present. Slowly, he got back to his feet, dusting his scraped palms off on his pants and looking around him. A cool breeze ruffled the hair at the back of his neck, and he couldn’t understand what it whispered; he shivered as his arms broke out in goosebumps under the light shirt he wore.

The squirrel was gone.

Shadows of trees stretched long fingers towards him. Neil shivered again. His power awoke, yawning and stretching in his gut; he reached automatically into his pocket for flint, but his fingers scrabbled on nothing but soft fabric. His stomach lurched into this throat, and he swallowed hard, staring through the darkening forest for some sign of a trail.

Something stirred.

He couldn’t see it; couldn’t even hear it, not really. He just felt it; a shift; a ripple; a _tug;_ and that was what set his heart pounding. A pull that he had not felt since he had felt his mother die, that he had never thought to feel again.

Wind whipped through the trees, snarling, pulling dead branches from their resting spots and sending them crashing to the ground. His power leaped up to join it, and he gasped out, “No!” as he reached to restrain it.

Thunder rumbled overhead. Silently, he pleaded with his power to come back to him; it hesitated, and he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. In his head, he started singing the song he had learned across the sea; he didn’t dare sing aloud, for fear of being found, but his power could hear him nonetheless. Slowly, it crept back towards him like a skittish cat, inch by inch before curling up in his core with watchful eyes.

_Not yet,_ he told it. _Not unless we must._

Neil felt the tug again, impatient this time. Swallowing against the dryness in this throat, his power coiled and ready, he followed the pull.

It wound through the trees on a path he had not noticed before. As he got closer, he paused, glancing around the forest floor until he found a stick long and sturdy enough to do some damage. It seemed a pathetic substitute for a real weapon, but he knew what he could do with it, with or without his power’s assistance.

A small stream, easily jumpable, crossed his path, the water chortling merrily to itself in a language he could not speak. He scanned the bed for rocks; most were not the type he needed, but after a few minutes he spotted one, reddish and glassy, that looked promising. His fingers closed around it, and his power hummed. After drying the rock off carefully on his pants, he pulled his steel pendant out from beneath his shirt, and struck it.

Sparks flew, and he grinned to himself as he asked them to spin in an intricate dance above his head.

Not so helpless now.

He leaped the stream, tucking the pendant back into its hiding spot once he was on the far side. One hand gripped the rock, memorizing the feel of its water-smoothed edges where they dug into his palm; the other wrapped around the stick, learning the weight and balance of it. The tug was getting stronger. He could hear them now, the faint rustle of leaves as they were disturbed by a careless body, or perhaps more than one. His own feet slowed, cautious as they picked their way through the damp litter that lined the ground.

A flash of movement in the corner of his eye made him flinch, but it was only the squirrel. A squirrel. He couldn’t believe it was the same one, though it cocked its head at him in the same fashion; it flicked its tail impetuously before darting up the birch it clung to and taking a flying leap to a nearby walnut, following the direction of the pull.

The leaves on the trees were gleaming amber and gold in the light of the setting sun when Neil broke through into a clearing, trailing the squirrel. A man sat in the grass, something akin to impatience in the cut of his mouth; somehow, Neil was not surprised that this was who awaited him. He stopped abruptly at the edge of the trees, waiting, though he did not know for what. Not a welcome; he did not expect that. No.

His first thought was, he would not have known the man before him had the prince not told him he was there. His second was, yes; yes he would have known him anywhere. Kevin had changed, as Riko had changed, as Jean had changed; as Neil himself had changed, inevitable as the passage of time. Neil studied his eyes, searching for the kindness he had seen in Jean’s, or the cold cruelty in Riko’s. But neither were to be found. His eyes were as green and deep as the forest that surrounded them, and as impossible to read.

Something flashed farther back in the clearing; the gleam of light on golden hair. One of the twins. Neil squinted; he thought it was the Not-Andrew twin, but he couldn’t tell for sure. A breeze blew through the clearing, rippling the grass, carrying with it the scent of flowers and rich earth. Neil’s heart steadied in his chest as he breathed it in, and the wind sang in his ear a song of joy.

Kevin beckoned to him, and there was something achingly familiar in the old imperious gesture that Neil had seen a thousand times in years gone by. He felt his mouth tug up in an unfamiliar smile, a laugh bubbling in his chest. Kevin had changed, yes; but Neil thought maybe he understood the pull he had felt. He thought maybe his magic remembered, dormant though it had been when last they had seen each other.

He stopped in front of Kevin, who got to his feet to examine him, cataloguing. Judging. Neil felt the blood rise in his cheeks, and he straightened up, not breaking Kevin’s gaze. His hand ached where it clenched around the rock, but he resisted the urge to test it against the pendant, to prove his powers in front of his former friend.

“Nathaniel.” Kevin’s voice was quiet, deep and unfamiliar. It almost knocked Neil reeling, and he forced his feet to stay planted on the ground.

“Neil. It’s Neil.” He shook his head, still trying to process the reality in front of him. Kevin was tall; he carried himself with the same noble bearing he had as a child, though it was less ridiculous now. Neil remembered Andrew saying that Kevin was King Wymack’s true son. He could see it, now that he knew, in the warm brown of Kevin’s skin, in the high cheekbones and strong jaw and the breadth of his frame.

“It’s really you,” Kevin murmured, almost to himself.

Neil could have laughed at the surprise in his tone. “Everyone thinks you’re dead, you know.”

Kevin’s mouth tightened, and he searched Neil’s face, for what Neil did not know. Before he could speak, the breeze murmured in his ear: a warning. Neil struck out behind himself, sweeping low with his stick, throwing as much force into the movement as he could. The stick caught against something—someone—solid, and he yanked as he spun, sending them tumbling to the ground. Before he could even see who it was, the stick was yanked from his grasp and whacked him in the stomach, and the air whooshed out of his lungs as he hit the ground. His grip on his rock loosened with the force of his fall, and before he could grasp it he felt it fly out of his hand.

Well. That answered who he had just dumped on the ground. He knew of no one but Prince Andrew who could command earth and stone with such ease.

Laughter sounded from the far end of the field; the brother. Kevin loomed over him, rubbing at his mouth in what may have been amusement or irritation. Neil glared up at him, pushing himself into a sitting position to find Prince Andrew flat on his back, examining his bit of red stone. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you,” the prince said, a thread of mockery in his tone as he slid his eyes to Neil.

Neil held out his hand, and Andrew tossed the rock in his general direction, springing to his feet as Neil snatched the rock from the air. It fit neatly into Neil’s palm, and he rubbed his thumb over the already-familiar bumps and ridges. His magic hummed, content.

He didn’t understand, the calm that settled over him as he breathed in the rich scents of earth and grass.

Andrew assumed a spot at Kevin’s shoulder, just a hairsbreadth in front of the Forest mage. Soft footsteps revealed his twin, who settled in opposite, arms crossed and no trace of his earlier humor on his face. Neil should have been nervous; should have heard his mother’s hissed whispers in his ear, felt her ghostly fingers tugging at his sleeve, urging him to _run, hide, disappear_. But the evening air offered no warnings, and the grass was warm under his fingers, and laughter danced out of him like sparks on the wind.

Kevin reached out with a broad calloused hand, and Neil let himself get hauled to his feet. He ended up nearly nose to nose with Andrew, and they stood, staring at each other for an endless moment, the air crackling between them like suppressed lightning.

“It’s getting dark,” the twin huffed, pulling Andrew’s attention away; relief, or something like it, swept over Neil, leaving him unmoored.

“Ah, but we have our very own light source,” Andrew said. Neil glanced at Kevin, who no doubt could lead them through the forest blind, but he merely waved a commanding hand at Neil and waited.

So this was the test, then. They were testing Neil’s control, here, in the middle of a giant mass of living kindling with no water or air mage to douse him if he failed.

Brave of them. Stupid, but brave.

Neil held Andrew’s stare as he struck the stone against his pendant, capturing the few sparks that flew. His magic sang a joyous chorus as he coaxed the sparks into a flame in the palm of his hand, blue-white at the center and a glorious red at the edges. The heat from his flame caressed his cheeks but did not burn. _Mine,_ it sang as it danced in his hand. _Mine, mine, mine._

Andrew gave Neil a flourishing bow, a strange sort of humor behind his eyes; Kevin huffed and turned, leading the three of them into the depths of the forest. A squirrel—the squirrel—scurried down a tree trunk and up Kevin’s body to rest on his shoulder, chattering in his ear. He listened with a grave air that set Neil’s flames flickering with laughter.

The way back to the castle was shorter than Neil had expected; either the trail was well-used or Kevin kept it free from tangling vines and fallen logs. All around them, trees sighed as the wind wound through the boughs; it should have been melancholy, but somehow it felt like a deeper harmony to his flame.

Neil thought they would make the trek back to the castle in silence, but after a few minutes Kevin cleared his throat. “I, uh…” He trailed off. One of the twins snorted behind them, and Kevin shot a glare over his shoulder.

“He wants to know if you’re fucking his lover,” said the non-Andrew twin.

Kevin made an exasperated noise through his nose. “No, that’s not—I...I’m glad…” His eyes fell on the flame in Neil’s hands, steady and beautiful. “Your control is better than I expected.”

Neil’s magic rolled, but the flame did not sputter. “You think that can only be learned in the halls of Evermore?”

“No,” Kevin said, after a pained pause. “I know well that’s not true. I just didn’t think you’d be able to study, not with the bounty hunters after you.” Neil glanced at him in surprise, and he shrugged, earning a chiding from his squirrel. “Your disappearance certainly did not go unnoticed.”

Neil’s free hand curled into a fist as he thought of the hunters, of the whispered gossip spreading through the castle like mice. But it was not Kevin’s fault, none of this was. “My mother taught me the basics. I learned the rest where I could.”

Kevin stopped short, Andrew almost walking into him. “Your mother?” And there was scorn in his voice, almost covering the fear. “How did a mundane manage to teach you anything?”

“She was a mage,” Neil said, and his flames did flicker at last, curving up to caress his cheek. “An Air mage.”

“But—”

The wind picked up, whipping through the branches and causing Neil’s little fire to jump. Behind him, one twin murmured, “Interesting.”

The other replied dryly, “That’s one word for it.”

Kevin studied Neil with an analytical air. “It’s just, King Kengo would never have allowed it. A Fire mage and an Air mage?”

“Kengo was an Air mage.”

“Exactly. There’s a reason your father was his right-hand man, he knew exactly how dangerous that combination could be. He never would’ve allowed them to marry.”

Neil wanted to snap back. He wanted to tell Kevin that he had no idea what he was talking about; that he had always been like this, thinking he knew more than everyone. Except—

His mother had never used her powers, not until they had escaped. Oh, she had listened to the wind, she had sung its lullabies to Neil in his cradle, but he had never seen her use it until she had yanked the breath from the guards’ lungs as they had stolen out of the castle.

He wondered if his father had known, and kept it from the king. Or if his mother had hidden it from them all.

“She was,” Neil said, as firmly as the hoarseness in his throat would allow. “Whatever the king claimed, she was.” Kevin looked poised to argue; Neil struck back before he could. “Why did Riko tell me you had died?”

The blow hit harder than he had intended. Kevin nearly reeled from the name as it left Neil’s tongue. His swallow was audible. “He believes it to be so.”

“Why?”

But Kevin turned to look at Andrew over his shoulder. Neil glanced too, but he could not interpret their silent conversation. “That shall wait for another time,” Kevin finally said.

“And Jean?” Neil asked, before he could bite his tongue.

Kevin stumbled over something unseen in his path. “What of Jean?”

Even Neil could detect the false note to his casualness. “Does he believe you to be dead?”

For a long moment, the only sound was their feet on dead leaves. “I certainly hope not,” Kevin murmured. “He helped me escape.”

Neil thought of the sadness and fear lurking in gray eyes too old for their years. “And you left him there?”

Kevin bristled, drawing himself up so he towered over the others. “I don’t expect you to understand.”

“You don’t expect me to understand why you left your lover behind to be little more than a slave while you escaped to luxury with your father?” Neil snapped. “Would _anybody_ understand that?”

Something like hurt flashed across Kevin’s face, and Neil felt a surge of satisfaction. “Ask him about it,” Kevin said in a voice like gravel. “When you have him in your bed, you can ask him.”

“Why does everyone think I’ve taken Jean to bed?” Neil asked the trees.

Kevin answered. “Haven’t you? From what I understand you practically said as much to the king.”

“Just because you can’t keep your royal dick in your pants doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t,” Neil grumbled, ignoring the bark of laughter behind him. “Has it occurred to you that I didn’t want him to go with Lola because she was going to kill him? And maybe, just maybe, I didn’t want to live to know another of my childhood friends has died?”

Kevin blanched, his warm skin going gray in the light of Neil’s fire. He opened his mouth like he was going to speak, but closed it again on nothing.

“This is awkward,” Andrew said, as the silence drew out.

His twin hummed in agreement. “We don’t even have snacks.”

“You are both terrible,” Kevin snapped, his squirrel running laps up and down his torso at the sharpness of his tone.

But Neil found himself wanting to laugh, and he didn’t know why. He bit the inside of his cheek until the impulse passed, and they walked on in silence.

Night had truly fallen by the time they broke through the trees. Lights bloomed out from the castle, spilling across the grass like water overflowing the banks of a river. Neil extinguished his flame, swallowing the faint bitterness of loss as the darkness swept in.

There was food waiting for him in his room, he knew. He started to turn towards the stairs, then hesitated. Andrew was poised to head down the hall away from him; the others were already nearly around the corner. “Why?” Neil asked.

Andrew raised one fair eyebrow at him. “You’ll need to narrow that down some.”

“You didn’t know if I had my Fire controlled, and you brought me out to a forest to test me?”

“Bee suggested that it may be better if you burn trees than people,” Andrew said, “and I’d rather smother you with dirt than the stones of the castle. Repairing this thing is harder than it sounds, even for me.” He waited a second for Neil to respond, then spun on his heel and disappeared in the direction of the others’ voices.

Neil had never considered the way an Earth mage might be able to counter his power. He wondered what that would feel like, to drown in the earth, as he dragged himself up the stairs. And if there was a faint pull in his abdomen, drawing him towards the banquet hall where the others were gathered, it was easy to dismiss as hunger, nothing more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your comments, I'm glad you all hate Lola as much as I do! I'm excited to see what you think of Kevin's appearance, and the twins' relationship. In case you're wondering, the squirrel's name is Cashew, and we haven't seen the last of him. (me? have animals with important roles in a fic? it's more likely than you think!)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Neil begins to train with the other mages, and has a couple of important conversations.

“Again.”

Neil wiped the sweat off his forehead with his arm. The sun was merciless, his flames dim in comparison even as he stoked them higher and higher. He had forgotten the sheer joy in this, in the intricate dance with his power, the exhilaration as he coaxed it, soothed it, shaped it, set it free.

He was laughing when he finally collapsed to the grass, his power spent down to embers for the time being. Kevin loomed over him, arms crossed. “Your stamina is appalling.”

Neil huffed, too winded for annoyance to settle under his skin. “You try being in dampers for a year, see how _your_ stamina is.”

“Again.”

He could feel the attention of the others on the pair of them. Most of the mages were out here on the green, practicing their skills, save the Healers. Dan the Life mage paused in her training to come a little closer; Andrew sat up from where he was sprawled beneath an apple tree. Groaning, Neil forced himself to his feet, his little piece of river jasper tight in his hand.

“Enough,” came a deep voice. Neil froze, then forced himself to relax. The king stood, the queen at his side, at the edge of the lawn. “You will not burn him out barely two days after he arrived.”

“Yeah,” muttered a tall Earth mage Neil thought was named Matt. “Give him at least a week before you run him into the ground.”

King Wymack shot him a look, while the other mages nearby stifled laughter. “I’m fine,” Neil said. He glanced at Andrew’s apple tree; he thought he had heard a noise, but Andrew had settled back into the grass among the roots.

The king’s mouth quirked. “Sure you are, kid, and we would like to keep it that way. Go eat something.” Neil opened his mouth, and the king shook his head. “That was not a suggestion.”

A table laden with fruit and cheese and bread stood in the shade of the castle, and Neil made his way over. The other mages soon joined him, save Kevin, Andrew, and the Water mage from the first night, Renee. “Aaron said you dumped Andrew on his ass last night,” said Matt, grinning.

Neil tried to place the name, then realized that must be Andrew’s twin. He shrugged. “I will neither confirm nor deny that rumor.”

The group of mages laughed. “How?” asked the Air mage. Allison, he had learned; and she had every bit as royal of a bloodline as Kevin, though she had rejected her prospective throne when she had sailed west to join with King Wymack’s group. “Not many other than Renee can best Andrew in mundane fighting, not even Matt.”

Neil didn’t know how to explain it, that he had been trained to fight with fists and staff and knives before he had been trained to fight with magic. Another of his mother’s secrets. Mundane fighting was frowned upon among mages, and among royalty. It was for the ordinary soldiers, ordinary people. Not those gifted by blood and magic to be more.

“Luck,” was what he settled for, and the others seemed to accept that answer. All but Dan, who looked at him with steady knowing eyes. But she didn’t call out his lie, and the conversation moved on.

* * *

Clean clothes were laid out for him when he got back to his room; his bath was drawn and steaming. He had not seen Jean since the previous morning, yet he knew Jean had been here. The breeze through the open window murmured _friend_ and murmured _lost_ and murmured _found found found,_ and Neil sank into the orange-blossom-scented water and wished for a moment that he could go back to how things once had been.

But as he looked at the scars that littered his torso, distorted and made unreal by the water, he realized again how kind memory was. How it shined up bits and pieces that helped you survive, and dimmed the rest. He didn’t know what Jean’s life had been, in the spaces between, but he bore the marks of his own; and he could not find it in him to regret that that time was past.

A soft rain had settled over the grounds by the time he was dried off and dressed. He considered heading out onto the grounds anyway, to feel the cool droplets on his face, to walk under trees glazed and dripping. The air always felt different when it rained; muted and sleepy in this sort of rain, or roiling and angry when thunder threatened.

Ducking past the collection of mages in the great hall, he slipped outside, gulping in lungfuls of the clean air. He thought at first that he was alone, but then he felt it: the tug. Persistent, but not demanding. A request, not a command.

He followed it towards the back of the castle, his fingers trailing along the stone that would not give up its secrets, not to him. As he rounded the corner, he was unsurprised to see Kevin, sitting cross-legged at the edge of the forest. Neil squinted through the rain. Kevin’s hands were buried in the ground, and it looked—it looked as though the trees, mighty as they were, were bowing to him, seeking to touch with roots and leaves. His squirrel was running over him, chattering away. Neil grinned to himself. It reminded him of a small child, telling stories to a beloved parent.

Somebody else was out there. Neil could feel their eyes on him, and he knew without looking who it was. Andrew was sitting, nestled in an alcove in the stone wall, sheltered from the rain. He was quiet; still; as isolated and emotionless as a stone in the desert. Yet his feet were bare where they rested upon the earth, and Neil wondered if it sang to him as his own magic did.

There was room in the alcove for Neil. He perched there, close enough to Andrew that he could feel the heat from his body. The pair of them watched Kevin as he disappeared, swallowed up by the plants, then reappeared slowly.

“He thinks you’re harmless,” Andrew said, barely audible over the rain. “Kevin.”

Neil huffed. “I don’t believe you. He may have his flaws, but he’s not stupid.”

Andrew didn’t laugh; his eyes sharpened where they bored into Neil’s head. “Why are you here, Neil _._ ”

“I like the rain.”

“A Fire mage that likes the rain?” Now Andrew laughed, and it sounded like a blade drawn across stone. “Try again.”

The piece of jasper stone already felt like home in Neil’s hand. He struck it against his steel pendant, and captured the sparks as if they were fireflies, cupping them gently in his hand. His magic grinned hungrily as he fed the sparks into flames so hot the rain sizzled into steam far above their heads. The prince’s face glittered like gold in the firelight, cold and hard.

Neil clenched his fist, and the flame disappeared. “Like I said, I like the rain.”

The fire had caught Kevin’s attention. He was watching them, his squirrel perched on his shoulder, but Neil couldn’t make out his expression through the curtain of rain.

“But why are you _here._ ” The prince gestured around him, to the castle, tall and lovely behind them; to the forest, green and verdant and teeming with life; to Kevin, strong and sure in his song of life. To himself, sturdy and unmoveable, a wall Neil could never scale.

And suddenly Neil felt—

Like the day he had left Castle Evermore, and had asked his mother when they would be going back.

Like the emptiness that had eaten away his insides at her answer.

Like _Never._

He swallowed down that word, with all its sharp edges. “Last I checked I didn’t have much of a choice.”

The prince raised his hand, and Neil’s piece of jasper flew into it. He played with it, passing it through his fingers. “I’m just curious,” the prince said. “It seems a strange coincidence. The son of the Butcher, the greatest Fire mage known, disappears for a decade. And then, just when Kevin discovers his heritage, just when he manages to escape, you reappear. Conveniently bound, weakened, oh so pathetic.” Neil watched the way his stone flashed in the prince’s hand, red and warm against pale skin. “And you are the only viable person offered to unite our countries. No other sons or daughters of lords to be found. Just you. Kevin’s childhood friend.”

Without warning, he tossed the stone at Neil’s head; Neil snatched it just before it cracked into his face. There was something else he wasn’t saying, something in the slow drag of topaz eyes over Neil’s face that he didn’t understand. “My understanding was your kingdom would only settle for a mage,” Neil said, when the pause got too long. “And outside of this castle they are few and far between.”

“Ah, but you were so conveniently at hand.”

It was tempting to send the rock winging towards the prince’s eye; or better yet, a blast of flame, see how talented the Healers in this kingdom really were. Neil almost choked on the smoke that rose in his throat. “Yes, it was very convenient to be held captive for months, sitting in my own filth in a prison hole in an unknown country,” he spat. “Another month in the hold of a ship, taunted with threats you can’t imagine. Thinking I would be given over to my father, to have fire turned against me and be unable to do anything about it. Again. Only to end up in another dungeon, living below my childhood home, mocked by someone I had thought my friend for weeks—no, months on end. To know I was being kept alive for something, but to not know what. Then sold into who knows what fate, to get turned over to someone I don’t know. To a Monster who has the right to do whatever he wishes to me and I can do _nothing_ , for the fate of two kingdoms hangs in the balance.”

There was a flicker then, in the prince’s face; a faint tightening, but Neil didn’t pause except to take a breath. “I’m left to hope that I will please you enough that I won’t meet my father’s fate, and that I don’t end up wishing for death in the end. To know that you will use me and discard me as you see fit, and the best I can hope for is to make it out alive. You will forgive me if I perhaps see it a bit less _convenient_ than you do.”

The prince said nothing, just stared at Neil with that strange gleam in his eyes. Thunder cracked overhead, and Neil started. His power called to it, and the wind picked up, rattling the trees, and Neil did not wait for the prince’s response, did not stop at Kevin’s call of his name. The rain on his face felt hot as he jogged through it, seeking the sanctuary of his rooms, and he reached up to dash it away.

* * *

The day dawned rosy on a world washed clean. Neil spent long minutes at the window, breathing in the scents that wafted up, grass and damp earth and the perfume of unfamiliar flowers. The air seemed lighter, as if it had emptied itself of an unwanted burden.

Neil knew how it felt.

Sometime in the night, as he listened to the rain’s steady thrum against the trees taper off into silence, he felt a strange sort of peace steal over him. Over and over, he replayed the events that had led him to this point. Feeling the bond with his mother stretch tight—then snap, dissipating into nothingness and leaving him gasping at the loss. The blow he never saw coming, too tangled in his desperate grief. The sudden silence where his magic had always been, and grief compounded. The strange sort of monotony of months of captivity, the sinking into the hollow boredom of it until he had mastered that darkness, unable to conjure up even the simplest flame.

He had kept breathing through it all.

Some days, it was just a reflex, nothing more.

But everything had changed for him weeks ago, on a battlefield he would never see. It may not have been by his choice; but he knew, deep down, even below the hollow where his magic lay, he knew that he would have chosen this. Over captivity and dampers, yes; any fool would have done the same; but also over running, over terror, over the whispers of the bounty hunters on the wind, over his mother’s grip leaving bruises on his wrist. Maybe that made him weak. His mother would have called it weakness, to choose peace and the illusion of safety over freedom.

He didn’t care.

He was alone as he wept on that window sill, as he realized he could no longer remember the feel of her hand on his arm, the pull of her magic; could no longer hear her voice, just the echoes of a ghost. He never would again. But the simple melody the air sang in the rain-drenched night was one of healing, and he let it wash away the pain.

* * *

A tap on the door startled him awake. The door swung open just as he overbalanced on the narrow window ledge and crashed to the floor. He blinked at two long legs that appeared in front of him; a familiar voice was muttering curses under their breath.

“How have you survived this long?” Jean asked, wrapping a hand around Neil’s arm and hauling him to his feet.

“It’s a mystery,” Neil grunted. He brushed himself off, then looked up to catch the brief war on Jean’s face. Amusement nearly won out, but ultimately stoicism was the victor, and Neil found himself mourning the loss. He wondered if the years had altered Jean’s laugh, or smothered it entirely.

“You aren’t with the others,” Jean said after a pause.

Neil shrugged. He didn’t have it in him to explain; didn’t know if Jean would even care. Neil wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t.

Jean hesitated, his grey eyes boring into Neil’s face. Once upon a time, a thousand years ago, Jean would have taken Neil’s hand and dragged him off somewhere, to the kennels to see the puppies, or maybe down to the lake where the ducks waddled with their little yellow puffball babies at their side.

He turned away and Neil followed, stretching out his stiff limbs. Jean had brought a tray with him, which he had set on the bed; delicious smells wafted out from under the cover, and Neil plopped himself on the bed, suddenly ravenous. He earned a quirked eyebrow from his friend as he dug into the fresh-baked bread that he uncovered.

“Want some?” he asked. He held out the rest of the loaf, and Jean gave an exasperated sigh. Neil waved it at him. “Come on. There’s plenty here.”

“You need to eat,” Jean finally said.

“You brought me enough food for four people,” Neil said mulishly. “If I eat all this I’ll puke, and you’ll have to clean it up.”

Jean was staring at him with a little crinkle between his eyes, like he was trying to decipher a foreign language. Neil finally gave up and tossed half the loaf at Jean’s head; he caught it just before it smacked him in the cheek. “You’re impossible,” Jean muttered, holding the bread like it might shatter in his hands.

Neil almost choked on his mouthful of egg. _You’re impossible._ The words were lacking the warm affection he had heard, dozens or hundreds or thousands of times before; there was no breathless laughter to accompany it, no warm hand grasping his. But it was a whisper into the darkness, and Neil felt something deep in his chest start to unfurl.

* * *

It was easy to avoid Kevin and, by default, Andrew; Neil just went in the opposite direction from the pull. It felt like politely but firmly shutting the door on an unwanted guest, and after a while he ceased to notice it.

Eventually he found himself down near the stables. Tilka greeted him by rubbing her face all over his too-nice clothes, leaving smears of dirt and horsehair behind. He clambered awkwardly onto her back, not bothering with a saddle or a bridle; there was nowhere to go, after all, so he merely sat on her while she ambled through the field, cropping the rich grass.

Kevin found him there; alone, for once, without his stocky golden shadow. Tilka had alerted Neil to his presence, but he hadn’t looked up from where he was twisting strands of her mane in his fingers until he felt Kevin’s eyes on him. They stared at each other in silence for a moment. “Are you finished moping?” Kevin asked.

“I’m not moping.”

Kevin raised one arrogant eyebrow. “Then what do you call this?”

Neil huffed, swallowing against the fullness in his throat. “Riding.”

There. A twitch of the lips. Kevin had always been serious, too serious for a child, but he had, sometimes, let himself go when alone with Neil and Jean. They could never tell what would set him off, and they used to take turns trying to outdo each other, anything to get more of a reaction than a fleeting smile. He wondered if Kevin remembered how to laugh until he couldn’t breathe.

He wondered if he remembered that himself.

“You could have fooled me, I’m pretty sure that’s just a moving sofa.”

Neil swung a leg over so he was sitting sideways on Tilka’s broad back. “Was that a joke? Did you just make a joke?”

“You need to train,” Kevin said, as if Neil hadn’t spoken.

Tilka picked that moment to walk off towards a better patch of grass, and Neil nearly lost his balance. “Why?” he asked.

Kevin trailed after. “What do you mean, why?”

“I mean, I know how to control my power, I’m not dangerous.” He didn’t add the, _unless I want to be._ “I know what my duties are. I’ve provided the country with peace, and Prince Andrew with land I haven’t seen in a decade. Unless you expect me to train as a consort?” He laughed without humor. “Don’t worry, I’ll provide him with whatever else he requires, I won’t even kick up a fuss.”

Kevin’s eyes bulged at that. “That’s not what I meant. And I don’t think—”

“Don’t.” Neil dropped off his horse and stalked towards Kevin, shoving a finger against his chest. “Don’t try to pretend this is anything that it isn’t.”

He headed back towards the castle, well aware of Kevin half a step behind him. At the edge of the gardens, Kevin tugged his sleeve. “You don’t know,” he said. “Andrew was right, you really don’t know.”

Neil crossed his arms and glared up at Kevin. “What the fuck are you on about?”

One of Kevin’s hands found its way to a flowering bush. Its blooms grew, brightened; Kevin didn’t even seem aware he was doing anything. “You weren’t the first choice Ravenar offered,” Kevin said slowly.

Neil stared at him. He and Kevin, along with Ichirou, had been the only people in the kingdom below forty with powers; and the bulk of those above forty had been killed in the war. “But Andrew said I was the only Lord’s son available. Who—”

He could hear the click of Kevin’s swallow. “Riko.”

“I’m sorry,” Neil said, shaking his head, “I thought I heard you say Riko.”

“Andrew laughed in Ichirou’s face, which almost started another war except Ichirou would’ve died before he could land the first blow.” He almost smiled. “Never underestimate the power of a pissed off Water mage.”

Neil started at that. He had not even seen Andrew and Renee interact, really, beyond a few cursory words here and there during training the day before. But he couldn’t think about it then, not when Kevin’s next words were, “You were the second choice. I assume since you were supposed to be promised to Riko all those years ago.”

The ground dropped out from under his feet, then rose to meet him far too fast. “No,” he said reflexively, but there was no lie in Kevin’s eyes. Neil shook his head, trying to clear it. It was impossible; it explained—everything. He had always assumed they had fled his father’s violent temper and even more violent flame. But why then, when Neil was on the cusp of his power, and not before? King Wymack’s words came back to him: _Lola had assured both kings that Neil’s parents had prepared him for an arranged marriage._

For once, perhaps Lola had intended to speak the truth.

“I don’t understand,” he said, and it sounded more like a croak. “What happened?”

Kevin rubbed one hand over his face. “Your mother really never told you this?”

“I already said that. We didn’t really talk much about Ravenar. We never talked about my father, except for her to remind me that he had bounty hunters out for us every time I started to get too attached to a place. I just—you know what my father did.” Kevin’s eyes dropped to Neil’s shoulder, where the worst of the burn scars lay hidden beneath his shirt. “It made sense we’d flee eventually.”

They started walking, drifting through the garden. The plants bent towards Kevin, as if seeking his touch; those that brushed against him seemed to preen. “Kengo wanted a more formal alliance with a powerful mage. Your powers were unknown, but with your heritage likely to be strong. Ichirou needed to produce an heir, so you were out of the question for him. But for Riko...it was you or me, and Riko and I had been raised as brothers after my mother’s death. Your father—”

“Yeah,” Neil said quickly. He could only imagine how eager his father was to sell him off for more power. A shiver ran down his spine, and he felt vaguely sick. He tried to remember Riko as he had been then; they had been friends once. But all he could think of was cold dark eyes relishing his confinement, mocking the discomfort of his dampers and his grief at Kevin’s supposed death.

“Why does Riko believe you dead?”

A shadow passed over Kevin’s eyes. “He hired a mercenary Earth mage to kill me. They were supposed to make it look like an accident; I was close to finishing my schooling, and was supposed to go ho—go back to Evermore before winter hit. You know those mountains, it would be easy to stage a rock slide.” He walked on for a moment, lost in his memories.

“Jean found out somehow, I’m still not sure how. He sent me a letter.” The ghost of a smile flitted across Kevin’s face. “Remember that stupid language you and he made up, just so the two of you could talk about the rest of us and we wouldn’t know what you were saying?”

A hundred cold, endless winter nights flitted through Neil’s mind. It had been his idea, but Jean had taken to it eagerly. “Of course I do.”

Kevin nodded. “He had taught it to me, once Riko—after you left, to make it easier. So I fled south instead, weeks before I was supposed to leave school. Wymack had a reputation of being a haven for mages, and I knew he had known my mother. He took me in. Turned out they had heard rumors, from mages who had traveled through Ravenar.”

“Rumors?”

“That maybe Kengo wasn’t as much of an ally of Palmetto as he seemed. He had supported Wymack in the coup but that was nearly a decade ago. Someone high up was trying to recruit mages, and you know Kengo’s attitude towards mages who were not of the royal family.”

“Weapons,” Neil answered, remembering what Lola had said.

Kevin nodded. “So far we don’t know any others who have joined that family, but—” He hesitated, as if trying to decide how much to relay. “You told Andrew that mages are rare.”

Neil nodded. There had been more across the sea, schools of them dotted here and there across the continent, but in these lands there was only one school, and his mother had known all the mages by name. She told him most had fled before he had even been conceived, abandoning proximity to the power-hungry former king of Palmetto for safety across the sea.

Kevin wasn’t looking at him; he was staring out over the fields to the trees rising beyond. “What if they’re not?”

Neil stared at him. “What?”

“There’s no reason for those with power to be less numerous here than in other lands.”

“But didn’t they all leave? Well, most of them, at least?”

Kevin shrugged. “You know we had read those books when we were children. The first mages had to come from somewhere; and elementals are just as likely to be born from mundanes as otherwise. Look at Andrew and Aaron. And Renee. History tells us some of the most powerful elementals came from some of the poorest mundanes.”

Kevin had been obsessed with histories, Neil remembered. Even when Jean and Neil had grown antsy Kevin had stubbornly read on, his voice thrilling over tales of forgotten battles, of magical discoveries, of kings and queens that had risen up from poverty to give rise to dynasties. “So?”

“So, why isn’t there a new generation? Other than us, I mean.”

“What, you think Ravenar is—is hoarding them somewhere?”

There was a long pause. “Andrew went into Ravenar, after I came here,” Kevin said slowly. “He went to negotiate with the mercenary Earth mage. The advantage to mercenaries is they can usually be outbid, you see. Wymack told Andrew to offer him freedom, employment, whatever it took; then they could fake my death and be done with it.

“But this mercenary, there was something...off. He didn’t even wait to listen to Andrew, he just tried to kill him. But Andrew was far more powerful. He did what he had to, and then he sent off my ring and my traveling documents to Riko, as he was expecting. If anyone ever managed to dig through the rock slide, it would be the mercenary’s body they found, not mine, but they didn’t bother.” Kevin’s mouth tightened in something like regret. “We never even learned his name.”

Something unpleasant twisted in Neil’s gut. “But where did he come from? There were fewer than forty mages in the entire continent after the war, someone had to know who he was.”

“Exactly,” Kevin said, nodding. “That’s what we’ve all been trying to figure out. But nobody knows. It’s like he was a ghost. And the real question is, how many others are there?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we start to get into the deeper bit of plot here. Thank you all for the wonderful comments, they give me life! I look forward to seeing what you all think of this one!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Neil finally reconnects with his Storm powers, starts to understand his true role in Wymack's court, and gets to know Andrew a bit more.

The dew was still on the grass the next morning when Neil joined the rest of the Foxes on the training pitch. Nobody even blinked when he arrived, Dan just directed him over to work with Allison and Renee. Kevin was with Andrew near the trees, gesticulating about something and getting a bit red in the face, while Andrew gave no acknowledgement of Kevin’s existence. Neil bit back his smile at the sight.

The Air mage’s eyes gleamed when Neil joined them. “”Finally,” she said, a smile playing about her lips. “It’s been a while since I’ve helped blow anything up.”

“Which is why I’m here.” Renee rested a hand lightly on Allison’s wrist. “Kevin won’t be happy if you burn down his trees.”

“Kevin can go fuck himself,” Allison retorted. “C’mon, your Lordship, let’s play.”

And play they did. It reminded Neil of afternoons spent practicing with his mother, in secluded fields and deserted roadways. Allison varied between feeding his flames and starving them, and he found himself almost giddy as he danced with his magic, keeping the fire steady and shaping it to punch out at the mages as they circled each other.

After an hour they broke for refreshment, and Neil practically collapsed to the grass with his plate.

It was interesting, watching the ebb and flow of the other mages. Mostly Dan, Matt, and Allison laughed and gossiped together, while Andrew and Kevin sat a little ways apart; Renee seemed to move serenely between the two groups. But on further inspection, Neil realized—everyone was, to some degree, rotating around Andrew. It was like he was the sun, and the others were planets caught in his orbit.

Neil assumed it had to do with power. Humans, mage and mundane alike, were always drawn to power, and other than Wymack, Andrew’s power was the strongest of everyone in the court.

Except Neil’s.

He had become increasingly aware of the way his power, finally freed and fed, was bubbling up like lava. What had exhausted him two days ago was barely taking the edge off now, and he longed to get back on the pitch and test himself against the other elementals. Allison had been entertaining, but he wanted to know how he would fare against the Earth mages.

Renee, as a Water mage, was likely the best equipped to counter his power, but there was something different about her when she thought nobody was watching, something of the hunted that reminded Neil a bit too much of himself. She was across the pitch talking to Andrew, and he was absurdly grateful for the distance between them.

By midday everyone was soaked with sweat under the summer sun. The others dragged themselves inside for a bath and a meal, but Neil couldn’t settle. Jean took one look at him when he burst into the room and sighed.

“One thing hasn’t changed I guess.”

“What do you mean?” Neil asked, hesitating before stripping out of his sticky clothes. Jean made an exasperated noise and turned his back.

“I mean that you’ve always had the energy of a grasshopper. And the sense of one too.”

Neil grinned despite himself as he settled into the blessed relief of the bathtub. “Kevin would probably say something about how grasshoppers are very intelligent insects.”

Jean froze for a second where he was gathering Neil’s clothes, then resumed his work. “Bees,” he said after a moment. “He always had a thing about bees.”

There was a silence between them, broken only by quiet splashing as Neil studied his toes wiggling under the water. “You know he’s here, right?” he finally asked.

“The king’s son?” Jean gave a bitter laugh. “Yes, that has not escaped my notice.”

Neil ducked under the water to rinse the sweat from his hair. When he resurfaced, rubbing the water from his eyes, he studied the rigid lines of Jean’s back where he was laying out clean clothes. “Have you spoken to him?”

Jean turned to face him then. “And say what? I’m a servant, Neil, and while you may pretend to forget that, I assure you he does not.”

And there was nothing Neil could say to that.

* * *

The castle was quiet in the heat of the day. Neil roamed the halls, memorizing the layout as best he could. Strategic windows were thrown wide to catch the breeze, and the air swirled around him, inviting. Eventually he followed its siren’s call and made his way outside, onto a balcony that overlooked the fields rippling with ripening wheat.

From this height Neil could see over the wall to the city beyond, people moving like ants along the streets. Farther still were rolling hills dressed in green and gold, warm and homey and so unlike the stark jagged beauty of the mountains around Evermore. He wondered what it would be like to gallop through there, the smell of the grass and the rich tilled earth rising up to meet him. But he would never be afforded that luxury of freedom.

_Watching, watching,_ the air murmured in his ear.

He glanced around; a gleam above him caught his eye, and he craned his neck to see one of the twins sitting on a flattened section of roof a floor above him, leaning against a turret. The twin caught Neil noticing him, but he didn’t look away.

“How did you get up there?” Neil asked.

“Window.”

Neil huffed. “You’re very helpful.”

The twin shrugged, uncaring. Andrew, probably. Neil left the balcony, finding a stairway in the adjacent turret. It led to a cracked door and a library, not an enormous one like Neil had found downstairs but small and private, with a well-worn couch and brass lamps waiting to be lit. The huge windows were thrown open, and he could see the blocky outline of the twin huddled on the roof.

He hesitated for a moment; there was something almost...intimate about the scene, and he felt like an intruder. But Andrew—it was definitely Andrew—must have heard him, for he looked over his shoulder and there was a quiet challenge in his eyes.

Neil ducked through the open window and onto the slates. This section of the roof was gently sloping, and he stood cautiously a foot back from the edge; he could see even farther than on the balcony, and the wind teased through his hair so it felt almost like he was flying. “I see why you like it up here.”

Andrew flicked a bored glance in his direction. “Is that the best you can do?”

“My apologies for my lack of scintillating conversation,” Neil said, sketching a mock bow. He found a place in the shade of the building to settle, pulling his knees up to his chest. A faint cheeping sounded above, and he searched in the overhang of the turret until he saw it: a swallow’s nest, built into the strut. As if on cue, one of the parents flew in, and the cheeping got louder as the babies clamored for their lunch. A smile tugged at the corners of Neil’s lips and it felt like his breath came easier.

“You’re sentimental,” Andrew observed.

Neil snorted. “Hardly.”

Andrew raised a skeptical eyebrow. “People say Nature is cruel,” Neil said, waving a hand in the direction of the birds. “But they care for each other, without expectation or conditions. How many people truly do the same?”

“I think we can hardly know the birds’ motivation. Perhaps there are parent birds disapproving of their fledgling’s choices.”

Neil laughed. “Perhaps there are.”

They sat in silence for a while. It was strange, how comfortable it was. Andrew was far from unthreatening; power like his could raze the castle to the ground, and Neil was certain he wouldn’t hesitate to do it if he deemed it necessary. Yet he had none of Neil’s restless energy. He was as solid as the earth he commanded, and Neil found himself drawn to that, as surely as the other mages.

“Why did you go to negotiate for Kevin?”

The question left his mouth before he had a chance to consider it. Andrew studied him for a moment. “Kevin requested assistance, and I wished to confirm my suspicions. The two problems happened to require the same solution.”

“Your suspicions?”

“It’s my turn.”

Neil had forgotten about the deal Andrew had struck that first day. “Go ahead, then.”

“How did you get captured?”

Neil blinked; he didn’t know what question he had been expecting, but that wasn’t it. The other bird parent swooped in, a moth in its beak; he tracked its flight, the wings outstretched then tucking tight as it landed on the edge of the nest. “They got my mother first,” he said, and his voice was steady and it didn’t sound like his own. “We had split up, we knew they were coming. I still don’t know how they got her, she was…”

He swallowed, remembering the way his mother fought, the air bending to her will. “I felt her die. I’d never been without her, you know? Not really. I escaped, that time. But I didn’t get far. One of our people must have sold us out, because when I went to the safe house the next night, they were waiting.” His power had tried to warn him; he could still hear it, the song turned to a scream, but though it echoed in his mind he hadn’t been able to register it at the time.

“One of them was an earth mage,” he said, and his mouth twisted as he inclined his head at Andrew. “I just remember seeing the rock come at me, and the next thing I knew I was in dampers and chains.”

“I suspect someone in Ravenar is enslaving mages,” Andrew replied, and it took Neil a second to recall what he had asked him. “Kevin said he talked to you about this, yes?”

Neil nodded. He had been thinking about this since the conversation in the garden, had pored through the couple of histories he found in his room. “He pointed out that there should be more of us.”

“There are.”

“You seem awfully certain about that.”

“Seeing as how I am capable of basic thought, I am.”

Neil didn’t try to conceal his eye roll. “They could still be emigrating. There are certainly more mages overseas, a lot more, but I have no idea if they were born there or not. I never asked.”

Andrew hummed. “That doesn’t explain why buyers from Ravenar were so prevalent at the auctions.”

“Auctions?” Neil stared at him, at the way he seemed even stiller than normal, the way his gold-flecked eyes hardened into stone. He scrambled to remember what he knew about Wymack overthrowing the previous King.

He had been at a school when the news had reached them, perhaps a year into their self-imposed exile, and his mother had taken him and fled in the darkness that same night. But the teachers at the school had celebrated; there had been murmurs of a dark stain that had crept through Palmetto, rumors of people sold into slavery, mages being molded into exactly the weapons Lola had called them. Wymack had been heralded as the savior who would cleanse the world of the evil of slavery. Neil’s mother had mocked the others for their idealism but the ensuing years had seen the release of all the slaves in Palmetto, their compensation from the royal coffers.

Many of the enslaved mages had perished in the war. The rest...the rest were here in this court.

“You were a slave,” Neil said. “Before the king found you, you were slaves, you and Aaron.”

Andrew waved a dismissive hand. “Old news. But people forget, once they have to call you ‘Prince.’ They think you should forget too. And Riko is counting on that.”

Neil wanted to ask how he knew Riko was involved, but then he remembered what Kevin had said. “The mercenary. The Earth mage.”

“Not a mercenary.”

“Does Kevin know?”

One finger tapped on Andrew’s knee. His hands were broad, strong, calloused in ways one wouldn’t expect from a member of the royal family, and Neil wondered how he hadn’t noticed before. “Kevin knows, but he doesn’t _know_.”

Neil thought about that distinction. “It was never legal in Ravenar.”

“Not on paper. But I would think you would understand that laws only apply to normal people.”

And he did. Murder wasn’t legal in Ravenar either, but he knew what his father had done. His magic swirled, seeking a spark; the breeze danced over the rooftop, ruffling his hair, and exhaustion washed over him. As if he felt it too, Andrew got to his feet.

“What’s going to happen?” Neil asked, and he could hear the strain in his own voice.

“It’s not your turn,” was all Andrew replied, and then he disappeared through the window, leaving Neil alone with the wind.

* * *

It became routine. Early morning training, working with his fire against air, against water, against the earth itself. Long afternoons spent wandering the grounds, on foot or on Tilka’s back, until every inch was as familiar to him as his own hands. Evenings spent reading in his room or on the roof with Andrew, trading barbs and nonsense and secrets that verged on the edge of importance.

As the days crept by, Neil settled into his role. Always tempering his power just enough, without making it obvious; slipping seamlessly into the joking gossip of the others, or the earnest passion of Kevin, or the bleak reserved humor of the twins. His mother had trained him well. And still, he managed to conceal the truth about his power, even from the Life mages. It all was easy.

Until it wasn’t.

Neil had dreamed of his mother, of the bond going taut, of the snap so loud it still reverberated in his aching head. The sky was heavy with impending rain, the light that filtered through throwing every leaf, every blade of grass into sharp relief. Kevin was sniping at Andrew, Dan was sniping at Kevin, Matt and Allison were quieter than normal. Only Renee and Andrew seemed unaffected by the coming storm.

“Again,” Kevin said, his arms folded over his chest, as Renee doused his flame with water. “Come on, Neil, you’re not even trying.”

Neil swallowed down the embers that flared at that. He closed his eyes, but that couldn’t block out the sound of his mother urging him to run. _There is nowhere to go._ He struck his flint, captured the sparks, grew his flame; the soaking sleeve of his shirt steamed, and he felt his skin protesting while his body fought to heal the burn as it spread up his arm. He gritted his teeth until his ears popped.

_There is nowhere to go._

His flame soared skyward, calling to the clouds overhead; Renee pulled the water from the air and sent it towards him in an arching wave that reached the second story of the castle. The wind billowed around him, and on it he could hear his mother’s voice.

_There is nowhere to go._

He lashed out with his power, the flames surging higher, higher—and then, the wind joined in, meeting the water in a wall and sending it back towards Kevin and Renee. A bolt of lightning seared the air, meeting Neil’s fire, and for the first time since he was fifteen he could hear it, the chorus of his magics singing together, and he almost wanted to weep for the beauty of it.

He clenched his fist, and his power spooled back into him, taking the flames with it. The world smelled of smoke and ozone, and he breathed it in for one breath, two. A weighty silence fell over the training area, and when he opened his eyes everyone was staring at him, identical expressions of shock across their faces.

Save Renee, who looked appraising, and Andrew, who didn’t have much expression at all.

His legs itched to run; his chest felt tight, and he struggled to pull in another breath under the weight of so many eyes. He waited for the screaming; for the earth to crack beneath his feet, trapping him; for the blow and the dampers and—

“Neil?”

It was Dan; her voice was gentle, and it cracked through his terror. “Neil, are you all right?”

He blinked. One blink, forcing down his mother’s harsh whispers and harsher hands. Another, the feel of fetters around his wrists. A third, and he was suddenly aware of the grass under his feet, the drizzle cool and soft against his face.

“I’m fine,” he said, relieved to find his voice steady.

“You’re burned,” she said, staring at his wrist. Cursing silently, he shook his still-steaming sleeve over the angry blistered skin.

“It’s fine.”

She crossed her arms and fixed him with a glare that might have been impressive had not Andrew been sending a much more cutting one from under his tree. “Don’t give me that horseshit.”

“It is, it’ll be healed in two days.” His mother would’ve told him it served him right for his carelessness. It wasn’t the first time Neil had accidentally given himself a steam burn, and it wouldn’t be the last.

“And we have several healers in this court who can fix it in two minutes,” she snapped.

He didn’t dare argue with her, not when he realized the king was watching, silent and still, from the shadows by the garden wall. Matt led him through the halls, radiating anxious concern.

“You know we’re here to help you, right?” Matt asked once they were away from potential eavesdroppers.

Neil wanted to laugh at his earnestness over so minor an injury. “It’s not worth bothering over. It’s just a burn. Hazard of the power, you might say.”

Matt shook his head. “That’s not what I meant, but.,.” He stopped in front of an open door. “We’re here.”

“Here” appeared to be an infirmary, but it was unlike any such place Neil had ever been, clean and airy and flooded with light through the rain-streaked windows. There was only one patient there, a stablehand judging by her clothes. A dark-haired healer Neil didn’t recognize knelt on the floor, her hands wrapped around the woman’s ankle while she chattered away. Andrew’s twin, Aaron, hovered nearby. The queen was sorting herbs at a table, smiling at something Betsy the Life mage had said. It all looked—homey.

If Matt hadn’t been standing at his shoulder, and a good foot taller than him, Neil would have turned and fled.

As it was, the queen spotted him before he could take a step. There was a minimum of fussing, thank whatever powers oversaw hapless mages. This may have been because Aaron stepped in, dragging Neil over to one sunlit corner where he unceremoniously ordered him to strip his shirt off.

“No.”

Aaron crossed his arms and stared down at where Neil was seated. It was not as impressive as his brother’s glower. “You’re the one stupid enough to forget to ask Renee to pull the water out of your clothes, this is the price you pay.”

Neil rolled his eyes. “It’s not like I’m going to be able to pause mid-battle and ask the water mage I’m fighting to kindly dry my clothes so I can continue killing them. Asshole.”

“In case it hasn’t occurred to you yet, this isn’t an actual battle, and we’d prefer not to have to patch up our mages every fucking day. So full points for stoicism or whatever, and take your damn shirt off.”

“Aaron.” The queen’s voice was soft, but there was a firm command in it.

Aaron’s mouth tightened, and Neil was pretty sure he could hear his teeth grinding together. “Fine. Where are you burned, other than your arms?”

Neil took a quick inventory. “A little bit along my right side. But you don’t need to—”

Aaron had already reached out to rest two fingers to the back of Neil’s hand. Aaron’s eyebrows furrowed, and Neil felt something flow over his skin like the subtle current of a slow stream. He watched as the redness ebbed and the blisters faded, an echo of it creeping up Aaron’s arm before disappearing altogether.

He had been healed a handful of times; mostly when the injuries were too significant for his own healing powers and his mother’s scanty knowledge. It was strange every time, the sudden absence of pain. Stranger still, perhaps, how familiar pain was, how easy it was to accept. How much it felt like proof he was still alive.

Aaron was studying him like one of the specimens Kevin used to bring home from the forest in jars. Neil swallowed down the impulse to tell him to fuck off, if only because the queen was within earshot.

“Neil, right?” The voice was friendly and unfamiliar, and Neil looked up to see the dark-haired Healer extending a hand. “I’m Katelyn. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Uhh.” Neil glanced at Aaron, who looked amused at Neil’s discomfiture. “You too.”

She flopped onto the cot next to him with a warm smile. “I wanted to be here when you arrived, I heard it was quite the spectacle, but my sister was having her first baby and you know how that is.”

Neil blinked at her. “I really don’t.”

She gave an embarrassed laugh. “I guess you probably don’t. Anyway I’m glad you’re here and away from that awful place. And at least I got here in time for the ceremony! Are you excited?”

There was little to do but stare at her in disbelief. When her smile didn’t waver he slid his eyes to Aaron for confirmation that she was not, in fact, an elaborate hallucination. Aaron was gazing at her with an almost comical look of exasperated affection, and Neil suddenly remembered Andrew telling him that his brother was promised.

Figured, Neil thought.

Katelyn was talking again. “...think of the town? I’m sure it’s much less grand than what you were used to overseas, but it’s still a pleasant way to waste an afternoon, don’t you think?”

Neil cleared his throat of his bafflement. “I haven’t been.”

“What? Oh, no, you must go. There’s a sweet little bookshop, and the fountain is so beautiful. And the inn! Aaron, we’re taking him. This evening, after we finish up here.”

“I don’t think—“

She raised an authoritative hand. “You’re going.”

But Aaron was looking at him with shrewd calculation. Neil didn’t wait to see what sort of conclusions he reached; with a stiff nod at the pair of Healers, and a somewhat more polite one in the vague direction of the queen, he turned on his heel and left the Healing room behind.

* * *

The storm blew itself out, leaving behind an afternoon where the grass sparkled under the sun and cool breezes swirled through the trees. Perhaps the others resumed their practice; perhaps children ran and played across the lawns below. Neil registered nothing as he stared unseeing from his window.

There was a hollowness beneath his sternum where his secret had once sat. Each breath he took swirled through that empty spot, taking with it the ashes of what he thought he had known. The sting of his mother’s palm on his cheek, her hissed warnings, her promises of what he would face if anyone found out the truth of the powers he held.

In its place he saw Dan’s face, the concern in her eyes reserved for the blistering of his skin and not the scent of lightning that still permeated the air. He saw the king, the knowing expression, the understanding. And he heard Matt’s voice, the impossible words. _“You know we’re here to help you, right?”_

A knock on his door startled him out of his reverie. He debated ignoring it, but Jean had a key and he wasn’t sure who else it would be. Before he could reach the door, some faint scratches sounded and then the door swung open.

Andrew stalked into the room, a bundle of cloth in his arms. “My brother is under the impression you think you’re a prisoner, and that’s why you haven’t left the grounds,” he said without preamble.

Neil crossed his arms across his chest to keep from making a bolt for the door. “Aren’t I?” _Don’t you understand what I am?_

“Did you not read the contract you signed?”

Neil had; Andrew had watched him do it. “You know I did. I know exactly what hangs in the balance here, Andrew. And I’m aware that you’re just as trapped as I am, but at least this is your home.”

Andrew huffed and tossed the cloth he was carrying onto the bed, where it unrolled into a set of clothes, even finer than the ones that hung in Neil’s closet. “What, you think Wymack is going to declare war on Ravenar just because you tell me to fuck off? Why do you think he insisted on waiting a month before the ceremony?”

Neil crossed his arms over his chest as if that would somehow protect him from this conversation. “I guess I thought it takes time to plan.”

“He’s the king, he could make it happen tomorrow if he wanted.”

“What are you saying?”

“You agreed to shared assets and magical bonding. You didn’t agree to anything else. And I’m not so desperate for a fuck that I’m going to coerce you into anything.” Neil blinked at him, and Andrew’s mouth quirked into what was almost a smile. “We outlawed slavery, remember?”

They stared at each other, and Neil thought he could feel lightning crackling in the air even though the storm was spent. He checked in with his magic, alert but calm where it coiled in his gut. And still, Andrew didn’t look away.

“What do you want?” Neil asked, the words charged with something he couldn’t name.

Something tugged at the corner of Andrew’s mouth. “I want nothing.” He turned to leave, nearly crashing into Jean on the way. “Make him wear that,” he said, pointing with his thumb to the clothes splayed across Neil’s bedspread before disappearing into the hall.

Neil considered dumping the stupid clothes out his window to flutter in the branches of the tree below; he considered charring them into ash. In the end, though, he grudgingly pulled them on after his bath.

Jean studied him with something akin to approval. “At least now you look like what you are.”

“And what is that?”

“A Lord’s son betrothed to a Prince.”

Neil pulled some sparks from the fire. “Don’t tempt me.”

One eyebrow went up. “Go ahead, I want to see you explain that to the prince.”

“Why did I save your sorry life?” Neil asked, extinguishing the baby flame.

“I’ve been asking myself that for weeks,” Jean said, giving Neil a small shove towards the door. “My best guess is that you wished to plague me to death yourself.”

“That must be it.” Jean shoved him again, none too gently, and Neil laughed as he tripped over his feet and staggered towards the door. “I didn’t expect you’d plague me back.”

“Well that’s a lack of foresight on your part,” Jean grumbled, using his oversized body to herd Neil into the hall.

Jean locked the door behind them—not that that meant much evidently, with Andrew around—and then froze when he looked down the hall. Neil twisted to see Jean was staring at, to find Kevin staring back at them, so still he could have been a statue.

It was—it must have been—the first time they had laid eyes on each other since Kevin had left for school that last fateful time. Jean was ice beside him, but Kevin...there was something rare and raw in his expression that made Neil feel like he was a mere child, intruding on something too big to understand. He thought about slipping the key from Jean’s fingers and escaping into his room but he couldn’t do that to his friend.

“Jean.” Kevin said the name like a prayer.

“Prince,” Jean returned coolly, his bow stiff. Yet Neil could feel his body trembling.

“We’ve never been formal with each other,” Kevin said, and though his tone was level Neil could hear the faint cracks in his voice. “I’ve never wanted that.”

Jean straightened up. “Times have changed, Prince. Situations have changed. We’re not children running around the castle anymore.”

“Oh don’t start that,” Neil hissed under his breath. Jean glanced at him, and Neil grabbed his sleeve. “You weren’t children when you were sharing his bed, or when you sent him that letter either.”

“You have always willfully ignored rank,” Jean snapped. “I can’t afford to do so. I know what I am.”

“And I don’t give a shit what you think you are,” Kevin said. “Jean...Talk to me.”

“What would you have me say? We both knew what this was.”

“And what was that?”

Jean’s chin went up in a gesture so achingly familiar it made Neil’s breath catch. “An indulgence. Wasn’t that what he called it?”

Kevin shook his head slowly; not a dismissal, but a denial. “I don’t care what he said. Jean, I told you...”

But Jean turned away, and Kevin reached to grab his arm. “Don’t—“

Neil struck his flint without thinking, and a flurry of sparks flicked onto Kevin’s hand. “You don’t touch him, not without his permission.”

Kevin stared at the tiny singe marks on his skin, before dragging his eyes up to Neil’s. There was something in them that Neil couldn’t quite understand, a sort of wry amusement. “Andrew is waiting for you at the stables,” Kevin said after a pause. “Don’t keep him any longer.”

“Wait, aren’t you coming?”

But Kevin was already at his room door, and Jean had disappeared, and Neil was left alone in the echoing hallway, watching the dust motes swirl through the afternoon sun.

* * *

Andrew was, in fact, waiting for him at the stables.

Tilka was already saddled, her chestnut coat gleaming; Andrew held the reins to a black gelding, leggy and lean like a racehorse and somehow not at all what Neil had expected Andrew to ride. Neil waited for some snarky comment on his lateness, but Andrew didn’t say a thing, just swung aboard his horse and turned for the gates.

They rode side by side down the long drive and into the city, listening to the music of the horse’s feet against the cobbles, the chorus of the city rising around them. The air sang a different song as it wound through the streets, one Neil hadn’t heard since he ended up in chains. Neil found himself watching Andrew, silent and tall on his horse, and wondering what he heard.

They rode down tree-lined streets heavy with the scent of magnolia, and Neil found himself gulping down mouthfuls of the sweet air. People nodded at them as they passed, tossing them warm smiles and murmuring to each other in hushed voices that he couldn’t quite catch. It seemed odd, all of it; like something was missing, an undercurrent he was so accustomed to he didn’t notice it until it was gone.

He was still puzzling over it as they made their way to the edges of the city, where the road turned to dirt under the horses’ hooves. Fields opened up on either side of them, great expanses of green and gold, and after a few minutes Andrew turned off the road.

“Ready?”

It was the first thing he had said since Neil had met him at the stables, and Neil gave him a questioning look. There was a gleam in his eyes, a spark that Neil recognized though he had never seen it before.

It was—mischievous.

“What, you want to race?”

“Why else do you have a horse like that?” Andrew asked, waving a hand in Tilka’s general direction.

“To help me run from people who want to kill me,” Neil said. “Obviously.”

Andrew huffed. “Well, that’s everyone who ever met you, I imagine. Are you ready?”

Neil laughed and leaned forward in his saddle; Tilka shifted restively under him, and then Andrew touched his heel to his horse and the black gelding bolted forward.

They swept up the edge of the field, the wind whipping through their hair and stinging Neil’s eyes. There was a joy in the way Tilka ran, her strides eating up the ground, ears pricked, and Neil found himself laughing as they reached the end of the field and arced around the corner. He snuck a glance at Andrew, and there was a fierceness in his face that he thought might have been an echo of the joy that was humming in his own chest.

Too soon, they eased the horses up, and Neil was laughing again as he dropped the reins on Tilka’s neck and raised his hands to the sky. “I win!”

“Says who?” Andrew asked mildly. “Mazsi was clearly in the lead at the end.”

“Utter horseshit,” Neil said, waving at the empty field. “I don’t know who you think you’re fooling, but the crows and fieldmice clearly recognize that we won.”

“If you’re citing the opinion of fieldmice, you know you lost. Those little bastards all lie, everyone knows that. And crows are always subject to bribes. Now, hedgehogs, those you can trust to be objective.”

They bickered good-naturedly back into town, finally calling the race a draw. Andrew pulled up in front of an inn and hopped off; Neil followed suit, reluctantly handing Tilka over to a stableboy. The other mages were waiting for them inside, cheering when they appeared.

“Who won?” Matt asked, dropping a casual arm across Neil’s shoulders.

“That is a subject of some debate. But it was me.”

Matt and Dan laughed, and Aaron elbowed his brother. “Getting whipped already, hmm?”

“I did not, Neil’s a liar.”

“Well, we knew that,” Aaron said. A silence fell, several nervous pairs of eyes turning to Neil.

Matt gave his shoulder a supportive squeeze, and he swallowed down the acid that stung his throat. He feigned a casual shrug. “It’s what I was raised to be.”

“Are we really going to do this?” Katelyn asked, nudging Aaron. “Because you’re not exactly a paragon of virtue yourself.”

“And Neil had his reasons,” Renee interjected. “Lying while running to survive is often necessary.”

“It’s not like we don’t all have pasts we’re not proud of,” Dan said.

Allison coughed and studied her nails. “Speak for yourself.”

Dan gave her a playful punch in the arm; before she could retaliate, a barkeep appeared with ale and hard spirits, and the mages cheered and toasted her and her entire family. She laughed and fell into easy conversation with Dan and Matt and Katelyn, while Andrew procured himself a small collection of liquor. Neil raised an eyebrow at him, which he met with a level stare interrupted by tossing back a glass.

“Where’s Kevin?” he asked his twin when he had finished swallowing.

Aaron shrugged. “Didn’t come. Said he had business to attend to.”

Neil smothered his laugh, but not quickly enough. Andrew and Aaron fixed him with identical questioning glares. “I’m guessing by ‘business’ he means Jean,” he murmured, with a glance at the other mages. He didn’t know how much the rest of them knew. “They...ran into each other as I was leaving.”

Aaron snorted. “About time, he’s been driving me to drink,” he said, raising his glass as proof.

“As if you needed help.”

Neil sat back and sipped the glass of cider that had somehow found its way into his hand. The rest of the mages settled in, talking and laughing about anything and everything. He let the conversation flow over him, watching the way the others glowed with that peculiar sort of happiness that only comes from being among those you truly enjoy.

Eventually the current of voices pulled him in, and he found himself telling tales from across the sea. Just the harmless ones, the funny or strange ones, but as the words fell from his mouth he felt lighter. Matt laughed too hard at the goat who ate his underwear off the drying line, and Dan and Renee countered with their own stories of mischievous livestock. Only Andrew was silent, watching as the intoxication level of the others steadily rose.

As the summer night slowly fell, they cleared out of the inn and made their way back to the castle under the gleam of lamplight. Neil’s legs were wobbling with fatigue once he dismounted at the stable, but his heart felt steadier than he could remember. The others handed off their horses to the stablehands, but Neil took his time brushing Tilka until her coat gleamed like copper in firelight.

He heard it when he was carrying her saddle back to the tack room—a muffled groan. There were no warnings in the air, no whispers of danger, but he set the saddle down and crept closer. Another sound, a rustling, low and frantic; he had no wish to light a fire in a stable, but he grasped his flint as he approached the closed door of the loft.

It came again, the indistinct moan, and he struck the flint and captured the sparks, his other hand reaching for the door handle. And then—

“Yes, Andrew, right there…”

Neil snuffed out the sparks and fled down the aisle, his face burning with the unused fire. Hastily stowing the saddle in the tack room, he grabbed a handful of oats and led Tilka outside, rubbing her neck while she lipped the oats out of his hand. Slowly his heart settled back down to a normal pace, but he was grateful that his mare didn’t seem in a rush to go back to her friends. She nibbled on clover while he leaned his forehead against her shoulder and tried to wrestle his thoughts into some sort of order.

It had never occurred to him that Andrew might have a lover. Things seemed to fall into place: Andrew’s willingness to accommodate Neil keeping Jean as his valet even when he had believed there to be more between them than a decade-dead friendship; the simplicity of the contract; his words that afternoon. Neil didn’t know what the custom was in this country, if keeping a lover while married or bonded was normal as it was in some of the countries he had traveled to over the years, or if it was frowned upon as it was in Ravenar.

It didn’t make sense, the way the ground seemed to rock beneath his feet. He couldn’t begrudge him this. He wouldn’t. Andrew hadn’t wanted this impending bonding any more than Neil had, and he had far more reason and opportunity to have other ties to bind him.

Tilka’s head shot up, her ears on high alert. Neil spun on his heel to find Andrew standing there, the moonlight turning his hair to silver. He looked exactly as he always did, stolid and unruffled, and Neil had no idea why his own face was heating when Andrew was so perfectly unaffected.

Giving his horse one last pat, Neil turned towards the castle. Andrew fell in step beside him. Neil found his eyes flicking to Andrew’s face, looking for some evidence of passion, of resentment, of guilt—

“You’re thinking louder than usual,” Andrew said.

Neil looked away, up to the forest that loomed like jagged black knives behind the castle. “I’m sorry.”

“What egregious crime did you commit this time?”

Neil stopped abruptly; Andrew kept walking for a step, then turned to face him while he searched for words. “I didn’t realize you had a lover.”

Andrew huffed. “ _Lover_ implies some degree of attachment.”

“Don’t you though? Feel something?”

“You really are sentimental, aren’t you. No. Roland is a good fuck and nothing more.”

Neil tried to imagine that as they resumed their walk. He understood the physicality of it, the mechanics; after all, he and his mother had hidden in a brothel for three months when there was nowhere else safe from the hunters. But he had never quite understood the draw of it. He could get a release without feeling just fine on his own.

“And what about him? How does he feel about your...whatever that is?”

“He doesn’t,” Andrew said. “That’s part of what makes him a good fuck.”

It struck Neil that this was probably an odd sort of conversation to have with one’s betrothed, and a little bubble of laughter threatened to burst out of his throat. He swallowed it down, but a whisper of it remained in his voice when he said, “Thank you for being so forthcoming, I suppose.”

Andrew didn’t even bother to look at him. “I’ve no interest in being celibate, and even less in bedding someone who doesn’t wish for it. I thought I made that clear.”

It was said flatly, but there was something underneath it—a bit of kindness, perhaps, or understanding. Something that laid bare the essential heart of the man next to him, and made Neil want to do the same. “I never have. Wished for it, I mean. But if I did…”

Now Andrew did look at him, raising an appraising eyebrow. “If you did, you know where my rooms are. But you might want to bathe first. You reek of horse.”

With that, he strode ahead of Neil into the castle, a shadow stealing into the light, leaving Neil alone in the dark confusion of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed having a bit of a longer chapter to get through! And I'm more than curious to see what you think about Neil's and Andrew's interactions in this one. I love reading all of your reactions, thank you so much for the feedback and comments!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Neil gains a greater understanding of his magic and his new friends, and the Binding Ceremony gives him more than he expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now with gorgeous art by @llheji!!

The remaining days before the bonding ceremony slipped by like sand, all the faster the harder Neil tried to hold slow their passage. Only a few moments were tangible, and he grasped onto them like precious stones.

One. The morning after the night in town, Allison grabbed his sleeve and dragged him to the side of the pitch. “Enough. You’re learning to control your Air powers, and I’m not hearing any excuses.”

Neil gaped at her. “I don’t have Air powers.”

Her eye roll was impressive. “Are you still playing dumb? Because I thought we got past that yesterday.”

“No,” he said through clenched teeth. “I have Storm powers, yes, but that’s not the same.”

“And that means you have Air powers. You’re a compound mage and you don’t even know it? What kind of useless education did you get overseas?” she asked.

It may have been a rhetorical question, but Neil answered anyway. “A pretty spotty one, what did you expect? I was rarely in school for more than a few weeks at a time, and most of the schools I attended weren’t for mages.”

Allison’s mouth was a thin line, her head cocked to one side as she studied him. “Nope. Uh-uh. No pity for you. Shut up and get to work.”

He gave an incredulous laugh. “I’m telling you—”

“Are you going to try to claim you don’t hear the air’s song? Because I don’t believe that for one second.”

As if on cue, the music of the air swelled around him, swirling and playful. He remembered the first time he had heard it, a handful of months after his fire magic had made itself known; he remembered the way his mother’s fists had felt against his flesh, and the hiss of her words. _You lie,_ she had said, over and over until he believed it. _You only hear the air because of me. Do not try to own it, it is not for you, it will never be for you._

He swallowed down the acid that rose in his throat. _Hello, friend,_ he said to the air.

_Hello hello hello,_ the air sang back. It sounded—pleased, and he laughed, almost giddy. Because this wasn’t new; the air had always been there for him, like a beloved companion he thought he had lost. All the times he had asked it for things, and it had complied, and somehow he hadn’t recognized that for what it was. He laughed again, and poured all the gratitude in his heart out to it, and the air burbled with joy while his fire murmured and rose to meet it.

And with that, his powers started to dance. It was strange, how achingly familiar this was, how this knowledge had simmered so far below the surface that he had convinced himself it was something less than it was. But it was glorious, and beautiful, the way the flame rose and fell with the currents of the air, and it felt like coming back to a home he had never truly known.

Two. Riding side by side next to Andrew under the afternoon sun, galloping across fields while the air played about them. Sometimes Tilka edged ahead, sometimes it was Mazsi; it didn’t matter, really, when the wind whipped the laughter from their throats and the fragile invisible webbing that connected them grew stronger.

Three. Wandering through the forest with Kevin, Cashew the squirrel leaping from tree to tree next to them while Kevin talked about the forest with love in his voice and the warm vital scents filled the air. Then rounding a bend to find Jean standing at the little stream, and slipping away unnoticed while Jean and Kevin lost themselves in each others’ eyes.

Four. Sitting on the roof, Andrew sprawled out next to him, as the last of the sun’s rays sink below the trees, watching the stars wink into being one by one.

Five.

A knock on his door. The king, standing there when he answered, looking almost comically awkward. “Neil. Can I come in?”

Neil opened the door wider, backing away to settle on the bed while the king entered and closed the door behind him. “The bonding ceremony is in two days, and we wanted to know if you have any questions?”

Neil glanced at the door, but Wymack was the only person present. “We?”

“Abby and Betsy and I. We know your upbringing wasn’t exactly conventional—”

Oh. Oh, no. Nope. He was not getting a consummation talk from the king. “I, um, I’m all set on that front.”

Wymack nodded. “So you’ve been to a bonding ceremony before? Because Andrew asked us to make some changes to the traditional ceremony.”

“What? No, I haven’t been to one.”

The king’s brow furrowed as he stared at Neil; Neil was pretty sure that expression was mirrored on his own face. “What did you think I was talking about?” Wymack asked warily.

Neil’s face was on fire, but he feigned disinterest as he waved a dismissive hand. “Nothing. Never mind. Andrew changed the ceremony?”

The king eyed him for a moment before clearing his throat. “Yes. There is usually a point in the ceremony where the participants are told to kiss in order to strengthen the bond. It’s not strictly necessary, but as I’m sure you know, physical and emotional connection both enhance the bonds between mages.”

Neil nodded, thinking of the network of gossamer threads that attached him to the other mages in the court, of the tugs he felt to each of them, getting stronger by the day.

“Andrew requested that the language be changed, so that you must each be asked, and consent. Platonic bondings can be just as strong, though they take a bit longer to develop.”

There was a funny feeling in Neil’s stomach, just above where his magic rested, that he couldn’t find a name for. He realized after a moment that Wymack was waiting for a response, and gave a vague nod.

Wymack turned to the door, then paused. “You know that if you do have any questions, about...uh, anything, about the ceremony or afterward, you can ask one of us. If not me, you can ask Abby or Betsy, or any of the other mages. Dan maybe. Or Matt. We’re here to help you.”

“Thank you,” Neil said, but it came out more as a question. The king sighed.

“You’re going to be the death of me, kid. You’re one of us. Regardless of what decision you make in terms of Andrew.”

With that he was gone, leaving Neil to sit in the waning light with his thoughts.

* * *

Neil’s silky sheets were itchy and hot against his skin. He got up and stood by the open window, asking the breeze to favor him, tilting his head back to let it swirl around him. It dried the stickiness on the back of his neck, and he felt like he could take a deep breath for the first time in hours. “Thanks, friend,” he murmured, and it ruffled his hair in response.

His feet were itching with the need to move, and he considered wandering down to the stables to visit Tilka. Instead, he found himself trailing an equally familiar path through the deserted hallways towards the little library.

Andrew was there, of course, moonlight turning him to silver on the rooftop. He barely turned his head as Neil climbed out through the window and settled next to him. Tiny flashes of light darted and danced across the lawn below, and Neil smiled to himself, remembering long-ago summer nights with Kevin and a glass jar, staring in wonder at the tiny captive stars.

“I wonder if I will ever tire of fireflies,” he said after a while, not really expecting a response.

“If you ever do, you could eat one; they cause hallucinations, which I imagine might make them a bit more interesting.”

Neil laughed, leaning back on the slate of the roof to stare at the moon. “Is that what you find interesting? Tricks your mind plays on you?”

Andrew hummed, mimicking his posture. “It depends on the trick.”

Well, if that wasn’t the truth.

It...scared him, sometimes, how easy this was. How natural it felt, and yet how foreign; like it must be a dream, or perhaps a firefly-induced hallucination. Not just Andrew, but all of it: the king and the other mages and the magic itself. He would have attributed his uneasiness to his mother’s paranoia, but he had seen it overseas, how the compound mages were regarded with suspicion, whispered about behind smiling lips. Even Forest mages, though mostly benign, tended to be pushed to the outskirts by the elementals. But here, nobody seemed to care.

As he lay back, the slate ridges digging into his spine, uncomfortable and comforting, he thought about what the morning would bring. He had never planned on bonding himself to another. His mother would have been furious with him for even considering it. But he had said his goodbyes to her wishes weeks ago in a different sleepless night.

“Why did you do it?” he asked abruptly.

Andrew turned to face him languidly, as if in a dream. “You will need to be more specific.”

“The ceremony. Why did you change it?”

“Do you object to being asked for your consent?”

“Of course not, but that doesn’t answer my question.”

Andrew was silent for so long Neil thought he wouldn’t answer. “You forget that I know what it is to not have a choice.”

It felt like the words punched the breath out of him. For he had forgotten; damn him, he had. Andrew knew what it was to be in chains as well as Neil did.

He swallowed against the dryness in his throat. “Thank you,” he said. “I—thank you.”

Andrew didn’t answer, but they lay there, side by side, long into the night.

* * *

He didn’t remember going to bed, or falling asleep, or dreaming.

He remembered shivering in the warm bath, Jean’s hands gentle as he dressed him, the heaviness of the silence between them. He remembered the air, calling him through the open window, sweet-smelling and promising things he could not believe existed. He remembered the slip of silk against his skin, the weight of his steel nestling between his collarbones, the smoothness of the flint he slipped into his pocket.

And then he was reaching for the door, and his breaths were measured and slow, and his heartbeat was an even march in his chest, and his feet never faltered as he walked through the hallways towards the garden with Jean at his side.

* * *

They stopped at the edge of the summer garden. The mages were all there, a loose laughing cluster under the morning sun. Neil had thought the ceremony would be more public, given Andrew’s status, but Betsy had informed him that bondings were always kept just among families.

Family. There was a strange buzzing in his chest at the thought.

Jean turned to leave, but Neil snagged his sleeve before he could take a step. “I shouldn’t be here,” Jean murmured, quietly enough that the others could pretend not to hear.

“Why not?”

“I’m not…” He waved his hand in a broad circle to encompass the rest of them.

Neil set his feet, tightened his fingers in Jean’s shirt. “They said family. They didn’t say mages.”

Jean’s throat worked as he looked away, up towards the castle that loomed above them. And there was something like grief in his eyes when he finally turned them to meet Neil’s, nodded, and stepped into the garden.

The others surrounded them, Katelyn taking Neil’s hands and leading him to the very center of the garden where Andrew already stood, flanked by his brother and Renee. His feet were bare, his toes digging into the grassy earth, and Neil wondered what it sang to him as his own magic’s music rose in his ears.

Kevin came up next to Neil, Jean bracketing him on his other side. Neil blinked, and they were in a different garden, breathless with laughter as they chased each other. He blinked again, and they were back in Palmetto under a blue blue sky, and Andrew was facing him, less than an arm’s length away. The world spun, and he swore he could feel it spinning, could feel all the magics spinning with it in a glorious unseen dance.

“Breathe,” Andrew muttered, his eyes trained on his face. Neil sucked in a mouthful of sweet-smelling air, and his heart steadied but the dance went on.

Betsy stepped forward. There was just a hint of a smile on her lips as she took in the two of them, and then she closed her eyes and started to sing.

Her voice would never be sought for the great halls of music, but it was beautiful just the same. She sang in the words of magic, of the ebb and flow of the seasons, in the vital language of life itself, a language Neil had never been taught but understood all the same. The song was a history, he realized; a history of the world and the force at its very core, a gift of the universe. And he felt himself grasping at some rare understanding, a thing too big and overwhelming for words.

His eyes were stinging as the song drew to a close, and when he looked at Andrew’s they were too bright in the sunshine. A peace settled over the garden, the very flowers seeming to forget their transience, and Neil found himself wishing that he could stay here, in this moment, for the rest of time.

“We are here today to celebrate the bonding of Neil and Andrew,” Bee said, in a soft voice that filled the garden. “As all mages are forever linked by their power, a bonding serves not as a forced or artificial joining, but as the willful strengthening of such a bond, for the betterment of both parties. For magic does not take, but gives; so too shall Neil and Andrew not take from one another, but give to one another, that they may be more resilient, more grounded, and stronger in their power.”

She paused, and Neil could hear the buzzing of insects around them. One of the mages murmured something, and he wanted to see who it was but he couldn’t look away from Andrew. There was something fierce in his expression, something hard-won and vital and raw, and Neil didn’t understand it but he found himself wanting to.

Bee started singing again, and without pausing she reached out a hand to each of them. Andrew took her hand without hesitation; Neil followed suit more slowly. With a warm smile, she joined their hands together, and at the first touch of Andrew’s skin Neil thought he could feel it, the vast power that ran through him like a current. Neil had known Andrew’s power was tremendous, but this—

It almost took his breath away, and the bonding wasn’t even complete.

Betsy’s voice rose, and one by one the others joined in, the chorus weaving magic so thick it was almost tangible. It started at their joined hands, a vibration both foreign and familiar, and Neil gasped at the sensation. As the song lifted around them the magic wrapped around their arms, then their shoulders, expanding until the pair of them were encompassed in a cocoon of it, warm and welcoming.

Slowly, the song faded. Andrew blinked like he was waking up; Neil knew how he felt. It reminded him of a night spent on a window ledge while the rain washed the world clean, of knowing that there had been a fundamental shift that could not be undone.

Kevin stepped forward, and Aaron opposite him. As one, they each handed Betsy something: the rings. Copper to represent fire, gold to represent the earth. Andrew plucked the gold one from Betsy’s palm and faced Neil, a question in his eyes. Neil nodded, and Andrew deftly slid the ring over his fourth finger.

The metal was warm and heavy where it rested against his skin; it felt nothing like the dampers he had worn for so long. His magic danced and sang as the ring settled into place, the Fire and the Air together welcoming the touch of Earth.

He felt like he was in a dream as he picked up the hammered copper band that he had selected. Andrew quirked an eyebrow at him, and he swallowed against the dryness in his throat as he slipped it onto Andrew’s hand with shaking fingers. Absurdly, he thought for a second how nice the copper looked against Andrew’s skin.

“Neil?” Betsy asked, and Neil turned to her, his hand still firmly clasped in Andrew’s. “Would you like to end the ritual with a kiss?”

He looked back at Andrew, as steady as he always was, and thought he saw something simmering behind his eyes. There was a tiny glance down, the slightest flicker as he looked at Neil’s lips, a question and an answer in one.

Neil cleared his throat. “Yes,” he said, and there was no tremor in his voice.

“And Andrew?” Bee asked, a smile in her voice. “Would you like to end the ritual with a kiss?”

“Yes.”

Despite the firmness of his answer, Andrew was slow as he cupped Neil’s face in his free hand, slow as he pulled him in. Still giving him a chance to back out, Neil realized. Instead he leaned in.

If he had thought the reserve of Andrew’s magic was impressive from a touch of his hand, it was almost overwhelming at the press of his lips. His own magic responded instantaneously, singing a welcoming song that was soon joined in by the deeper baritone of Andrew’s. Neil found himself kissing back, no brief chaste brush of lips but deeper and deeper as their magic danced. And Andrew…

And Andrew…

There was so much more to him than the surface showed. Neil had never imagined that it could feel like this, the counterpoint of the Earth magic to his own, the bond shifting and changing until he thought it might kill him to break away. The wind picked up, swirling through the garden, ruffling Neil’s hair and sighing through the tiny gap between their bodies. And as he opened his mouth to Andrew’s he could have sworn he felt the ground shake beneath his feet.

A throat cleared; an amused cough sounded; and the kiss gentled then stopped altogether. Neil snagged his fingers in Andrew’s shirt, not quite ready to let go, and Andrew gave a tiny huff against his lips.

Maybe Neil was being naive, or ridiculous; he couldn’t blame Andrew for laughing at him. All he knew was that for those few moments, even with the earth cracking beneath them, he had felt more solid than he ever had before.

Slowly, so slowly, he leaned back, untangled his fingers from Andrew’s shirt, and started to step away. But Andrew didn’t release his hand; for an endless moment they stood there, savoring that few square inches of connection, until the rest of the mages swarmed them.

Neil braced himself for the loss as they were forced apart by back slaps and shouts of congratulations, but though there was a tiny tremor in the bond for the first time in his life he didn’t have to search to feel it. It was there, just below his magic, grounding and strengthening him. He reached for it without thinking, and Andrew paused in his conversation with his brother to glance at him.

Food was brought out, and the garden gates were thrown open for the mundane members of the castle to join in. Neil picked at some sort of savory pastry and sipped at his cider, trying and failing to fade into the background. Every few minutes, he would feel a little tug, and each time he couldn’t stop himself from seeking out Andrew’s golden eyes.

“Ugh, you guys are disgusting,” Allison said, draping one arm casually across his shoulders, the other balancing some sort of fruity-smelling drink.

“What?”

Dan grinned. “I was fanning myself during that kiss. You literally caused an earthquake.”

“Just don’t bring the whole castle down around us tonight. Or set fire to it.” Allison laughed. “Come to think of it, we should make sure there’s no fire anywhere near their room.”

Neil felt his cheeks heat at the implication. “I don’t—”

“Shut up, Allison,” Katelyn said cheerfully, elbowing her way into the group. “Besides, it’s not like you can talk, you literally made Renee burst the pipes.”

Allison raised one aristocratic eyebrow. “I know. Why do you think I’m warning him?”

About four different things clicked into place, but he didn’t particularly care about Allison’s and Renee’s love life. Jean was no longer at his side, and he scanned the garden, only to realize Kevin was missing too. He smiled to himself and turned his attention back to the gentle bickering of his friends.

* * *

By mid-afternoon, Neil was ready to crawl into a hole and sleep for a thousand days. Or maybe set fire to something, just to get the crowd to disperse. People from the town had swelled the numbers, and the food and drink kept coming, and every time he got near Andrew somebody or another whisked him away.

Jean had reappeared at some point, slightly rumpled but with his edges softened. Neil elbowed him as he passed, laughing when Jean attempted to scowl down at him. Somehow, he finally managed to slip out of the garden, unseen by anyone but Andrew, and he took a deep breath as soon as he was free of the crowd.

His feet carried him to the pastures next to the stable. Tilka was grazing next to Mazsi, but her head popped up when Neil whistled. The pair ambled their way over, frisking Neil for treats when they reached him. Laughing, he scratched their necks. “You only love me for my oats,” he told them, and Tilka’s nudge almost knocked him into the fence. “Yeah, yeah.”

The air whispered a warning as he headed into the stable that stopped him in his tracks. _Stranger,_ the air hissed.

_Mundane or mage?_ Neil asked.

_Life mage._

There were no life mages in Palmetto that didn’t live at the castle. He reached for his flint, only to feel a questioning tug on the bond, gentle at first, then insistent. Other tugs followed, so faint as to be barely noticeable, and he gave a cautious tug in return.

It didn’t take long for the others to arrive, a mass of mages with several of the castle workers mixed in. Andrew didn’t stop until he reached Neil’s side, fingers light enough against his back to raise gooseflesh up his arms. “What trouble are you getting into now?” Andrew asked in Neil’s ear, breath tickling along his neck.

“I don’t get into trouble, trouble seeks me out,” Neil muttered, earning a snort from Jean. “And there’s an unknown mage in the stable.”

Allison looked uncharacteristically thoughtful as she listened to the air’s warning. Renee squeezed her hand and came to stand next to Andrew. “Shall we?” she asked, gesturing to the door.

Neil took a step forward only to be stopped by Andrew’s hand on his chest. “What?”

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?”

“Seeing who’s in the stable. Obviously.”

“Neil,” Renee said gently, “why don’t you let us go first?”

Neil stared at her for a second. “I can handle myself.”

“I’m sure you can, but Andrew and I have trained to run point.”

“Fire is easier to threaten someone with,” Neil argued. “And Allison showed me how to asphyxiate someone.”

“He’s not wrong,” Kevin said.

Andrew’s mouth was set in a stubborn line, but before the discussion could continue the stable door swung open to reveal a man, ragged clothes stained with the dirt and sweat of travel, eyes exhausted but alert.

Everyone stared at him, and he ran a self-conscious hand through his matted hair. “I don’t mean to interrupt what I’m sure is a very well-thought-out and passionate argument,” he said. “But I need to talk to the king as soon as is feasible.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Theories as to who the stranger in the stable might be?
> 
> I can't express how much I appreciate all the comments and encouragement for this fic. We're past the halfway point now! I'm excited to see what you think as the story progresses!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the stranger tells his story, and Neil and Andrew's bond continues to strengthen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loved seeing all the theories regarding the stranger's identity! All is answered here, a couple of you guessed right and all the ideas were very plausible!

The mages were scattered in small clusters through the great hall, sitting on tables, leaning against walls. It might have looked like any other evening, but for the undercurrent of tension that weighted the very air. Neil’s feet itched to move, and he wandered about, listening to the idle chatter and speculation. His magic kept tugging him over to where Andrew sat, talking in a low voice to Bee, but he didn’t give in to the pull.

The stranger had insisted on talking to the king alone; for some reason, Wymack had agreed, save for Abby, despite the protests of the others. Nearly half an hour had passed since the door had closed behind them, and still, not a word, not a rustle from the private chamber.

_What news?_ Neil asked the air.

But he got no answer beyond, _stranger._ _talk._ And then, _friend._ It did little to quell the tightness in his throat.

His roaming brought him nearer to Andrew, and this time he did not ignore his magic’s insistence. The Earth’s song enveloped him as he came to Andrew’s side; his own hummed a contented counterpoint, lighter and more playful than he thought the occasion called for. It was a strange song, one Neil didn’t immediately recognize but it harmonized with the deeper Earth magic in a way that was almost—

Flirtatious.

_You must be kidding me,_ he thought. _Now?_

He could’ve sworn his magic was laughing at him.

Andrew didn’t acknowledge him past a quick glance, deep in a conversation that turned out to be about books instead of the apparent crisis at hand. But Neil thought he saw a little twitch at the corner of his mouth as Neil’s magic trilled.

_Stupid magic,_ he grumbled to himself, ignoring the amused lilt to the fire’s song.

Not that he didn’t understand the draw. There was something inherently solid, something safe, about Andrew. A strange thing to think, perhaps, given that Andrew had killed dozens of people during the war, and wouldn’t hesitate to kill dozens more should he need to for the safety of his kingdom. Or his family.

The thought tickled in his chest. Before he could parse out why it felt like that—like something momentous, just out of reach—the door to the king’s meeting room cracked open, spilling out candlelight and low, serious voices. The candlelight jumped and danced, and Neil took a deep breath and let it out slowly, counting to ten while it settled.

The king emerged first, face stern; Abby next, grave and serious; and then the stranger. Neil studied him, trying to seek out some clues from his good-natured eyes and weary expression but coming up empty. Wymack surveyed the room, cataloging everyone present, then gestured for Aaron to close the doors. There was a shift in the air; Neil listened to the song, confused, and then realized that Allison had created a shell so nobody outside could hear.

“Tell them,” Wymack said.

The man cleared his throat, his eyes falling on Kevin, and then Neil. “What part?”

“All of it.”

The man passed a tired hand over his face, then nodded. “My name is Jeremy, and I came here with a warning.”

* * *

Jeremy’s tale didn’t take long, even interrupted by the food and drink Bee insisted they all be provided with. Jeremy fell on the meat and bread and cheese like a starving man; which, Neil supposed, he was. The rest of them picked at fruit and sipped their wine, sated after the day’s feasting.

“I spent the last eleven years in Ravenar,” Jeremy began. Kevin made a tiny noise, but shook his head when Neil glanced at him. “Do you know Tetsuji?”

Kevin blinked at him for a moment. “King Kengo’s brother?” Jeremy nodded. “I know of him; he died when I was a child.”

Jeremy’s mouth twisted. “Who told you that?”

Kevin glanced at Neil for help; Neil shrugged. The name sounded familiar, but he didn’t recall any details. Kevin chewed on his lip for a second before answering, “The king, the princes, my mother, teachers. Everyone.”

Jeremy shook his head, something like sadness in his eyes. “Not dead, I assure you. Or if he is, someone is doing an excellent job impersonating him.”

He leaned back in his chair, digging his fingers into his eyes for a moment before letting them drop into his lap. “I was taken in by him as a child.” He gave a sad laugh. “Taken in, bought, kidnapped; I guess I don’t fully know. There were about a dozen of us, though.”

“A dozen what?” Allison asked. Her voice was casual, even disdainful, but the tension in her face belied her tone.

“Mages. All young. Some of them already had come into their powers, others were like me. Too young, but almost ready. He called it an orphanage.”

Neil risked a glance at Andrew. He could feel it rolling down the bond, the fury, the—grief. The Earth’s song had changed to one that was vaguely familiar, almost like when he had felt his mother fall. But though Andrew’s eyes were intent on Jeremy, his face betrayed nothing.

“I—at first it felt like a miracle, you know?” Jeremy stared at his plate while he spoke, quietly enough Neil leaned forward to hear him. “We had all the food we could ask for, they taught us to read, to sing. We got to play games when we were done with our lessons, and then when our powers started to manifest...oh, then we were _special._ That’s when we got put into training.”

Dan was shaking her head in slow and righteous anger; Allison had turned away; Matt looked sick, as if he knew what was coming. But it was Renee Neil couldn’t look away from; the blackness in her eyes threatened to swallow him whole.

Jeremy looked up, met Kevin’s eyes. “He’s training an army. That’s what it was. The mages, they are nothing more than weapons to wield, and we need to stop him.”

“And you’ve come here why?” Andrew asked, his voice like gravel. “Out of the goodness of your heart? Are you trying to claim you’re not just as much of a weapon?”

He sounded scornful, and Neil realized with a shock that none of the others could hear the undercurrent of pain and fear beneath the words. He nudged Andrew’s foot with his own, receiving a press of the knee in return.

“I suppose I am, in a way.” He gave a small, humorless laugh. “They call me a recruiter. It’s my job to find more kids with promise, and report back.” He shook his head, sagging back into his seat.

“Is?” Andrew pressed. “Or was?”

“I…” Jeremy trailed off, staring at Andrew, then Aaron. “You’re the adopted princes.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Right. Sorry. They think I am out on another recruiting trip.”

“And so you are,” Wymack interjected wryly. “Just not the type they expected.”

A silence fell around the table while the implications of that sank in. “What are you saying?” Allison asked.

Wymack waved at Jeremy to go on. Jeremy met Allison’s eyes, his face open and guileless. “A couple of years ago, we had a visitor. Tetsuji’s nephew. We hadn’t even realized he’d had family until then. When we learned he was royalty it was quite a surprise.”

“Ichirou?” Kevin asked.

Jeremy shook his head. “Riko.”

Kevin flinched, but there was something in his face that told Neil he had been expecting this particular blow. Andrew grabbed Kevin’s shoulder and squeezed, a reminder or solidarity Neil wasn’t sure which.

“I’m sorry,” Jeremy said, and it seemed an odd thing, to apologize for telling the truth. But there was a rare sort of compassion in his steady brown eyes, and Neil wondered how much of Kevin’s pain he could sense.

“That was when it all changed. Maybe because enough of us were far enough into our training, or maybe Riko was the catalyst, I’m not sure. Before that, we all knew we were being trained for something, but it was framed as a hypothetical. Tetsuji used to say we had to be prepared, in case something happened. We had to be the best, to protect ourselves.

“But after Riko left again, Tetsuji started pulling out certain mages, taking them out on their own. He called it training missions. I had been going out with him or one of the others for a few years, helping to find children with latent power. It didn’t really strike me at the time…”

He drummed his fingers against the table, expression distant for several long seconds. “The families of the kids, sometimes they would say yes to them coming with us, especially those born to mundanes. A lot of them were poor, and I would tell them about the food and the education and the opportunity, and they would practically throw their kids at us. But some of the others, the families said no. And then somehow, if the child was particularly promising, a few months later they would end up joining. Their parents died, or there was an illness in the town, or the family was suddenly destitute.”

“How many?” Aaron asked, and for a moment he looked exactly like his brother.

“Total? About thirty mages, including myself. Perhaps half of those under less than straightforward circumstances—also including myself.”

“Thirty kids. Tetsuji took thirty kids into—what? Slavery? An army?”

“That’s what I’ve come to believe, yes.”

Aaron stood up abruptly, pacing around for a moment before coming to stand behind Katelyn. “And why us? Why come here, instead of doing your _job._ ” He spat the last word, and Jeremy flinched as if he had been struck.

“I was slow,” Jeremy said. “I didn’t really understand for a long time. But Riko came back, and I could sense something off with him. My magic tried to tell me the first time, but he was welcomed in so warmly, I thought I was sensing wrong. The second time, it was obvious. He’s not even a mage, he shouldn’t be able to throw me off like that, but it’s like...it’s like the opposite of what my magic is.

“See, my magic always felt a little different with the adults who had taken me in than it was with other mundanes, and I didn’t really think anything of it, it was just...them. But with Riko, it was painful, it was like it was screaming at me. It was almost the same, only it _hurt_ , and I finally started to really look at him. Them.”

Andrew’s knee digging into Neil’s leg was almost bruising, but he didn’t pull away. He wondered if this would have been Andrew and Aaron’s fates, had Wymack not found them. His magic was singing a quiet song, one of sadness and understanding, and he could hear the Earth magic sighing into it.

“Then, almost a year ago, Riko came for a visit, and when he left he brought one of the Earth mages with him. Hawking never returned.” Jeremy glanced at Kevin. “Not long after, rumors reached us of the tragic death of Prince Kevin, and when Riko returned he was…” Jeremy searched for words. “It was clear he was unwell.”

Andrew snorted softly. “Next he’ll be saying the Lady Lola is a little impolite,” he murmured in Neil’s ear. Neil fought an unholy urge to laugh.

“When the war started, I expected some of the mages, the older ones, would be sent to fight. But we stayed where we were, just kind of waiting for a call that never came. Then King Kengo fell, and Ichirou took power, and a couple weeks later Riko returned.”

He glanced at Wymack, who gave him an encouraging nod. Abby rested a hand on Jeremy’s arm, and he tried to smile at her but it was a dismal failure. “I had always thought the king knew of our presence, but now I believe I was mistaken. Riko convinced his uncle to go along with him, putting the full might of the mages behind him.”

“For what?” Renee asked, but Neil could tell she already knew what Jeremy would say next.

“He plans to overthrow Ichirou.”

* * *

Neil crawled out onto the roof, taking what felt like the first deep breath in days. He flopped onto his back, letting the residual heat from the sun-warmed tiles ease into his muscles even as he stared at the starry sky above.

Downstairs the other mages were still talking, around and around in the circles that had made Neil dizzy. About treaties, and promises, and war. But nothing would be decided tonight.

The night air flowed over him, sweet-scented with the promise of rain. He could feel Andrew approaching along the bond, his magic welcoming the Earth. The last of the tightness in his chest eased as Andrew climbed through the window, and he decided not to examine that too closely. He was too tired anyway.

Andrew sat in his usual spot, staring out over the darkened grounds. The sliver of moonlight that broke through the clouds glanced off the tops of the trees, looking like silver frost in the sultry night. There was an unfamiliar weightiness to the silence. Neil slid a little closer, lightly kicking Andrew’s foot and earning an unamused glance in return.

“What?” Neil asked.

Andrew cocked his head, and it took a second to realize he was listening to the harmony of their magics. “Is yours always like this?”

Neil listened more closely for a moment and stifled a laugh. “It’s not usually this exuberant, no.”

It felt...impossible, that the bonding ceremony had only been that morning. Already the Earth magic felt like a friend. Neil resisted the urge to tug on the bond just to see Andrew’s reaction, but judging by his expression he must have felt the impulse anyway.

The song shifted into something softer, almost melancholic. “Are you all right?” Neil asked quietly. He recalled what Jeremy had said, about Andrew’s adoption, and Andrew’s deflection.

“If I kissed you right now, would you want it?” Andrew asked. “You, not your magic.”

Neil blinked at him; was that the reason for that look in Andrew’s eyes? He hadn’t thought Andrew was interested past what the ceremony required. He hadn’t thought _he_ would be interested past what the ceremony required; but he remembered the way it had felt, Andrew’s lips against his, the warmth of his body, the taste of him. And yes, the way his magic responded too; that was an inescapable part of them, after all.

“Yes,” Neil said, feeling almost dizzy at the memory. “I would want it too.”

Andrew shifted closer, one hand cupping Neil’s jaw, thumb brushing with impossible gentleness across his cheek. “Don’t set fire to anything,” he murmured. “Or blow us off the roof.”

Neil laughed into the shared breath between them. “Don’t bring the castle down around us.”

“No promises.” And with that, he leaned in.

A part of Neil had thought maybe the intensity of that morning’s kiss had been born of the ceremony itself, the weaving of the magic, the song rising up around them. But no; it was all Andrew.

Andrew kissed like a thunderclap, deep and harsh and overwhelming; and he kissed like the rain that followed, steady and strong. He kissed like the morning after the storm, clear and new, with the song of his magic surging around them both.

Neil let himself get lost in the heat of Andrew’s mouth, until his lips were sore and his skin was buzzing, until all thoughts of Jeremy and Riko and war were driven out of his head. He couldn’t figure out what he was supposed to do with his hands until Andrew slipped his own fingers into Neil’s, lacing them together. Neil hung on for dear life. It felt like the only tether keeping him from floating away into the ether.

The distant click of a door closing had Andrew pulling away. Neil wanted to hold on, but he forced his tingling fingers to let him go. A second later, Aaron’s head poked through the window.

“Oh. I didn’t realize.”

“What?” Andrew asked flatly.

“I didn’t know you two were, um...” Aaron tried to explain before giving up halfway through.

Andrew gave his twin a glare that was half-amused, half-irritated. “I meant, what do you need.”

Aaron clambered awkwardly through the window, daring a glance down that turned him slightly green. “Just don’t fuck here, I’m not sure even Abby could put you back together again if you fell.”

Neil felt his face heat; he hadn’t realized how much his body had responded to Andrew’s kiss until then. It appeared Andrew was no less affected, but he didn’t seem to care; he merely raised an eyebrow and asked, “You came up just to tell us the obvious?”

“No.” Aaron settled next to Neil, who fervently tried to order his body to calm down. “Jeremy.”

Andrew hummed thoughtfully. “I’m definitely not going to try to fuck Jeremy.”

Aaron threw an errant pine needle in his direction; it lost momentum and fluttered towards Neil’s chest until he asked a gust of wind to toss it into Andrew’s face. Aaron broke out laughing, and Andrew brushed it away unperturbed.

“Wymack and Bee say he’s honest,” Aaron said, leaning back on his elbows to stare up at the sky. Andrew didn’t respond, and Aaron made an irritated noise. “What do you think?”

“It’s a bit convenient that he came here.”

“But if they’re sending him to steal child mages, he might be motivated to go to the king who outlawed slavery and just won a war.” There was a long pause, and then: “He paid a lot of attention to Kevin and Neil.”

“I noticed,” Andrew said dryly.

Restlessness stirred again in Neil’s legs, warring with the heaviness of fatigue. “He probably thought Kevin was dead, unless word has reached Ravenar since I left.”

“And why would he be so interested in the other Ravenar refugee?” Aaron asked.

“Me?” Neil attempted a casual shrug. “He’s a Life mage, it’s not like Storm mages are common. He might have been trying to figure out what I am.”

“Or planning to take you back.”

Andrew snorted. “Because kidnapping a bonded mage is a brilliant idea.”

They sat for a while without words. Neil found himself wanting to reach out to touch Andrew, to feel the way he was grounded in the Earth even dozens of feet above it. His magic swirled, unfocused, until suddenly the song settled as the baritone of Andrew’s joined in. “Have Wymack and Bee ever been wrong?” he asked.

Aaron and Andrew exchanged looks. “They are impossibly optimistic,” Aaron said.

“But have they been wrong? About a person, I mean.”

“Not yet,” Andrew said.

The clouds were thickening, slowly swallowing up the stars. Neil could feel the storm building in his blood. Though weeks had passed with frequent summer storms, his magic still rejoiced at every thunderclap, still begged to be released to play with its wild ancestor. Some day he would go out to a safe place and let it loose, see what music could be made. But tonight was not meant for that. He sang it a soothing song and it quieted down, content to watch, and listen, and wait.

Andrew was watching him, his expression unfathomable. Neil barely noticed Aaron slipping back through the window as the first raindrops fell. “Are you going to kill us both?” Andrew asked, reaching out to brush a raindrop from Neil’s cheek.

“Nah,” Neil said. “I can just absorb the lightning. It would only kill you.”

“Don’t talk dirty to me,” Andrew said, cupping Neil’s face and drawing him in. Neil let Andrew kiss the smile off his face. It was too brief; Andrew pulled away as the rain started to fall in earnest; but it was enough to settle the maelstrom of thoughts that had been threatening to build. His mind felt pleasantly empty as he trailed Andrew back into the little library.

It wasn’t until he was tucked into his bed that he realized he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be in Andrew’s. But there had been no expectation at all in Andrew’s golden eyes as they had said good-night in the candlelight, just a light brush of fingers against his back and then the closing of the door.

_I’ve no interest in bedding someone who doesn’t wish for it._ The echo of Andrew’s words from a few days ago—was it just a few days ago? —rang in his ears. But Neil didn’t know what he wished for anymore; didn’t know what was even possible. As he sank into sleep he let himself hope he would have time to figure it out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we goooooooooo! A little hint of what's to come, in the form of an exhausted and struggling Life mage Jeremy. So excited to see your thoughts on this exposition-heavy bit, and we're moving in a plotward direction here. Thank you all so much for all your comments, I love seeing what stands out to you!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is planning and the start of a new journey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be forewarned: this is a long one! There is a little bit of implied smut in this chapter, as Andrew and Neil strengthen their bond. Nothing graphic at all, but it's part of the reason it's rated M. If you wish to avoid it, skip the paragraph after "I like saying yes to you." and stop reading at "I want to bed you." Also, brief mentions of Nathan's abuse.

Nothing changed. Everything changed.

They still trained every morning, but this time it was with a purpose, with a word hanging over their heads. They still went into town, and walked in the woods, and galloped the horses in the fields. But every day, the word grew larger, a spectre that haunted them in the sunlight and the moonlight and the firelight. Every day, the Earth magic’s song worked its way deeper and deeper into Neil’s core, until he could almost sing it himself.

And every day, he found Andrew on the roof or in the library or in the stables; every night he went to sleep with the taste of Andrew’s mouth on his tongue.

After a week, there came word; Neil didn’t ask how, but Jeremy’s story was confirmed. The mercenary—or spy—who spent an hour with Wymack before disappearing unseen reported a collection of mages in the western mountains of Ravenar, near the Truwisan border. Wymack pulled them in to give them the information. The king’s face was worn and tired as he talked about the rumors flying through the forests like nighthawks on the wing: tales of a younger son’s discontent, whispers of a divide among the people, and the first hushed murmurs of war.

Jeremy’s face was serious and sad as he heard tell of unrest among his former companions. The Life mage had somehow already been absorbed into the group; much as Neil had been himself, he realized. Even Jean watched him with a wary softness in his eyes, and Neil wanted to ask but found his voice dying in his throat every time he tried.

That afternoon, Kevin disappeared into the woods, his face grim and set. Neil and Tilka followed Andrew and Mazsi out through the gates and up into the hills behind the castle. The horses climbed the slopes through the trees, trotting and cantering easily, no racing today.

“Are we really going to end up in a war?” Neil asked. Andrew was quieter than usual; but he had run his fingers down Neil’s back before they mounted up, and brushed his lips against his shoulder, and his magic was singing something unfamiliar as they made their way higher and higher.

“Not if Wymack has any say.” Neil heard the words behind that, and knew Andrew wouldn’t let that come to Palmetto again while he was still breathing.

“What was it like?”

“Which one?” Andrew asked.

Neil had forgotten that Andrew and Aaron had survived two. “Both.”

They rode together in silence for a moment, until the woods opened up to reveal a riot of wildflowers across a large meadow. “The first one, we were still coming into our powers,” he said, and though the words were measured he sounded far away. “Wymack kept us out of it as best he could. Turns out you can’t keep a Healer away from injured people though.” He stopped Maszi and dismounted, pulling his bridle off to let him crop the grass. “Earth powers are rather useful in defense, I learned pretty quickly.”

Neil found he could picture it. Aaron, even smaller than he was now, stubbornly working to heal the wounded; Andrew, protecting him the only way he could.

He slid off Tilka and stripped her tack; she bounced around and bucked for a moment, before dropping to the ground to roll. Neil laughed at her hooves dangling above her belly. “So undignified,” he told her, as she surged to her feet and shook, shedding flower petals onto the grass.

Andrew was sitting cross-legged in the grass, watching him instead of the horses. Neil felt warmth creeping up his neck, and he wasn’t sure if he could blame the summer sun. For an endless second he couldn’t remember what they had been talking about. He cleared his throat. “What about the second?”

“An unnecessary expenditure of life,” Andrew said, and finally he looked away, off across the meadow. “Kengo thought nothing of murdering his own people for the sake of our resources. But they didn’t know we had Kevin.”

“Kevin?” He hadn’t been expecting that to make a difference; Kevin was a tactician but not much of a fighter.

A ghost of a smile flitted across Andrew’s lips. “You’d be amazed at what a Forest mage with something to prove and a trained squirrel can manage. He was the one who came up with the plan, in the end.”

“Then there was you,” Neil said; he hadn’t forgotten about the fact that Andrew had, effectively, ended the war when he brought a mountain down on Kengo—and Nathan.

“Yes,” Andrew agreed placidly. And then the ground heaved under Neil’s feet, toppling him on his ass. The grass cushioned his fall, and he smothered a smile at the humor tucked into the corner of Andrew’s mouth.

“I didn’t realize you wanted me on my back this badly.”

“Then you haven’t been paying attention.”

They were inches apart. Andrew was looking down at him with that expression, that one that had become so familiar in such a short time. Neil scooted himself closer, immediately resuming his sprawling position and pretending he didn’t notice the gleam in Andrew’s eyes intensifying.

“Can I kiss you?” Andrew asked. He always asked. Neil didn’t know why, but he liked it, liked the little thrill that ran down his back each time. He liked the way his own yes sounded too; it felt like a tiny rebellion each time. There was the same thrill he had gotten from occasional stolen kisses on the run, but this—

He laughed into Andrew’s mouth at the thought that kissing his bonded was in some way illicit. Andrew nipped at his lip in retaliation and pulled back, a silent question in his arched eyebrow.

“I like saying yes to you.”

So he said it again, when Andrew’s hands traced the scars his father’s flames had left across his chest; and when his mouth followed his hands; and when he ventured lower; and then Neil wasn’t sure if he said anything at all other than Andrew’s name like a prayer to a forgotten god. And when he had caught his breath, and Andrew had whispered a yes of his own, Neil kissed him and kissed him and kissed him. He kissed his mouth as his hand explored, and his neck as Andrew shivered against him, and the delicate shell of his ear as he felt Andrew’s pleasure, almost as acutely as he had his own. And then his temple, and his forehead, and his hands, as they lay together in the meadow, their magic a symphony around them.

* * *

The mages gathered in Wymack’s study not long after the day dawned. Neil sat silent against the wall, Andrew at his side while the others debated their next steps. The treaty with Ravenar was dissected and arguments had over every word, every sentence, every possible meaning and interpretation. Neil listened as best he could, but over it all the spectral word still loomed.

War.

They had all been in the last one, all but Neil; they had carried their country on the strength of their magic, and had lost friends in the process. He could see his own dread mirrored in their eyes.

“If we send a warning with no aid, what are we even doing?” Dan asked, her eyes blazing.

“What aid would you have us send?” Aaron countered. “Would you strip our people of their best defense for an uncertain alliance?”

“I will go,” Renee said quietly. “I do not fear him.”

The others protested, save Andrew, who watched with unfathomable eyes. Renee parried every objection with gentle words as deft as a blade, and it wasn’t long before the room subsided into uneasy silence.

“What of the captive mages?” Kevin asked. Neil’s stomach clenched at the thought of them, his breakfast threatening to make a reappearance.

Andrew looked at Neil, and he internally cursed the sensitivity of the bond. He wished he could shove the thought away, useless as it was. The unknown mages were none of his concern; he could practically feel his mother’s fingers digging into his skin, hear her hissing in his ear in a way he hadn’t in weeks.

But behind the ghost of his mother’s fury, all he could picture was Andrew and Aaron in their place. That would have been their fate, that or something like it. It was part of what his mother had feared for him: his power, his joy, under someone else’s control.

The king was looking at Neil with a peculiar expression, as if he too could feel his turmoil. “It’s a problem,” he said gruffly. “We are sorely lacking in information.”

“We know Jeremy seems to be telling the truth,” Matt said. “We know where they are.”

“But Wymack is right, we don’t know what King Ichirou knows. Riko evidently is aware; but if he plans to use the mages in a coup, Ichirou may not,” Kevin mused.

His fingers drummed against the table as he thought. “If he knows, Ichirou may well take our interference with the mages as a declaration of war. If he doesn’t…”

“We could save his reign and strengthen the alliance,” Dan finished for him.

Neil crept closer to the table, studying the map. Evermore was almost directly to the north of Wymack’s castle, but the circle Jeremy had drawn marking the mage stronghold was in the mountains far to the west, nearly to the border.

He knew those mountains. Prior to moving to Evermore, he had played in their shadows; even after he had called the Castle home, his father had brought them back to the foothills every summer to check on his estate.

Kevin tracked his eyes. He opened his mouth, but it was Andrew whose finger stabbed into the thick paper of the map, right where Nathan’s estate lay. “Interesting,” he said. He looked up at Neil with no particular expression in his eyes, none of the molten warmth that had been there when they had lay tangled in the meadow grass.

Neil’s mouth tightened; he could almost feel fire that wasn’t his own searing into his skin, and had to fight not to press his hand to the phantom flames. The others must have been able to hear his heart pounding in his chest, it echoed so loudly in his ears. He couldn’t tell what they were thinking; if they could sense the way his magic roiled as he fought for control; if maybe they thought he had known all along. He wanted to protest against their unspoken judgement, but he couldn’t swallow around the sudden dryness in his throat.

“What’s interesting?” Dan asked, steel in her voice.

Andrew raised an eyebrow, daring Neil to explain. Neil forced his tongue to unstick. “My father’s estate. It’s right there.”

She glanced at where Andrew’s finger still pinned the map in place, then at the area Jeremy had outlined for them. “Well, well, well, isn’t that convenient.” She looked up at Neil with a slow smile. “Now that you’ve joined the family, perhaps we should take a little trip to make sure your dowry is being properly maintained?”

Neil stared at her for a second before he realized she was expecting a response. There was no suspicion in her eyes, just an unfamiliar sort of understanding, and he found himself nodding. But it was Andrew who said, “After all, it may have been allowed to fall into disrepair after your father’s death.”

“We can’t have that,” she said, with a mischievous quirk to her mouth.

The conversation went on around him, debating and discussing the risks, the potential boons, strategies and tactics that he probably should have been paying attention to. But all he could think about was the sickly sweet stench of rot permeating polished wood, the way beauty could hide viciousness, and he wondered if he would ever be allowed to forget.

They finally broke for lunch, and Andrew followed Neil out into the garden, where they eschewed the benches to flop in the sun-warm grass.

“What caused the crisis this time?” Andrew asked, popping a bit of melon into his mouth.

Of course he had felt it. Neil chewed for a bit on the fresh bread that suddenly tasted like sawdust. “You know about…” He gestured to the burns splashed across his torso. “My father did that, in that house.”

He pulled his knees to his chest as he had for the past dozen years, as if he could somehow shield his own skin from the memory. It had never worked. “I didn’t think I’d ever have to go back.”

Andrew wrapped a warm hand around his wrist, fingertips finding his pulse. His thumb tapped along Neil’s forearm in time to it; his magic sang along, a quiet gentle song, and Neil felt some of his tension leach into the soil.

“You don’t.”

“But—“

“We can come up with an alternative.”

Neil opened his mouth, but he didn’t know what he wanted to say. There were so many voices talking over each other in his head. His mother’s, fierce through her terror; his father’s, silky-smooth with rage; Lola’s, strident and mocking; Patrick’s and Riko’s and the bounty hunters’, all different types of hungry and grasping. He couldn’t even hear his own in the cacophony.

He took another bite of bread, chewed, swallowed, mindlessly watching the clouds drifting across the too-blue sky, white puffy things that had no ambitions of rain. “I think I have to,” he whispered, half-hoping the wind would catch the words and blow them away.

Andrew didn’t say anything. Neil could feel him watching with those patient eyes. Waiting. He couldn’t bring himself to turn his head; a cloud shaped like a fox floated overhead, and he traced it with his finger.

“I know he’s dead, I know you killed him, but that feels—impossible, honestly.”

He finally looked at Andrew, and there was something dark and vicious lurking in his face, in the timbre of the Earth’s song. A whisper of the Monster, so feared by those outside this castle.

Neil wondered what it had cost Andrew, to bring that mountain down. He reached out a hand, stopping just shy of touching Andrew’s knee. The darkness receded as Andrew studied that hand, head cocked to the side like a curious cat.

With a tiny exhale, Andrew shifted closer, into Neil’s touch.

Everything went quiet. The swirl of angry voices in his head, the too-sharp tones of his magic, even the dissonance of Andrew’s, it all—stopped. Save for one clear note he wasn’t sure he had ever heard before.

Neil wanted to pull Andrew down, to kiss him until he forgot such a thing as war and death existed. But forgetting wouldn’t make it true, and this touch, this touch was enough to make it worth it to live for truth.

* * *

More planning. More haggling. More facts disguised as opinions and opinions masquerading as facts. More arguing and debating, circling around and back again until Neil wasn’t sure who was suggesting what anymore.

Each afternoon he left the study too drained to do more than doze in the garden listening to the wind singing with the birds. Each evening was spent in the library or the woods or the stables, learning Andrew’s body as Andrew mapped out his own, driving away all thoughts of plotting and war as they wrung pleasure from each other. Andrew never invited him to his bed, and Neil didn’t mind. This was already so much more than he had expected it to be.

Slowly the debates solidified into a plan. Two would take advantage of some language in the treaty to visit Ichirou under the guise of discussing trade; two would head to the estate in the west that Neil struggled to think of as his own, to formally claim the land and gather what information they could about the mage camp.

Neil felt like he was sliding down a slope feet-first. No way to see what was coming, no way to stop. His companions were chosen, Kevin’s passionate logic winning out in the end, and he wanted to stop them, anchor them here, throw out his hands to grab onto something and slow the fall. But the hours slipped by in the heat of Andrew’s arms, and evening came, and Jean wordlessly packed what Neil needed then pressed his lips to Neil’s forehead and disappeared through the door. The night was warm, but Neil tugged his blanket around his shoulders anyway as he sat on his window ledge and stared out over the darkened grounds. If he had believed in any gods he might have prayed to them. His fingers found the steel pendant that still hung around his neck, and he rubbed the metal, feeling the lines of the tiny engraved fox as he peered up at the moonless sky and wished.

And still, the hours slipped by.

* * *

The dawn was staining the edges of the sky rosy pink when the four mages rode through the castle gates and turned north. The town was just starting to stir, bakers and milkmen going about their business without blinking an eye as two members of the royal family passed by. It was all Neil could do to keep from turning in the saddle to watch the castle disappear as they trotted out into the hills. To watch his home disappear.

Two months. He had been there two months, and it felt like a blink and it felt like a lifetime. It didn’t make sense to him; he had stayed so many places for longer, and never felt like more than a leaf in autumn, ready to blow away at the faintest breeze. But this felt like he was tearing himself up at the roots.

Only, one root remained, at least for a few more days. He glanced at Andrew, sitting upright and stoic in Mazsi’s saddle. Renee and Kevin rode just ahead of them, talking quietly enough Neil couldn’t hear the words over the sound of the horses’ hooves. No doubt reviewing every possible adjustment to the plan. Part of Neil wanted to ride forward and listen to them, but he’d heard it all before, every permutation, every possible curve in the road. Their backup plans had backup plans.

It was the unforeseen, or rather the unforeseeable, that caused acid to sear his throat.

To distract himself, he looked out across the farms they are riding past. He vaguely remembered them from before, like a dream upon waking. In the new light of day he could see the red blush of apples on the trees. He breathed in deeply. The air was sweet with the aroma of ripened fruit, mixed with the tang of the richly fertilized earth. Something warm spread through his veins as he watched the farmers calling in red spotted cattle for milking.

This was what was at risk.

They rounded a bend as the sun approached its zenith, and he didn’t recognize the land anymore. Tilka tossed her head, and Neil forced himself to loosen his death grip on the reins. A stream meandered past a little grassy knoll; chestnuts bore their spiky fruit along the roadside. It was beautiful.

If everything went right, he would be back here before the chestnuts fell.

Andrew was watching him when he dragged his eyes away from the spot. There was a quiet question in the arch of his eyebrow, and Neil shrugged. “I haven’t seen this bit.”

“You must have come this way, this is the only direct road.”

“Oh, I’m sure we did, I recognized the farmland.”

Andrew waited, a faint air of perplexity in the tiny furrow in his brow. Neil waved an arm at the land around them. “I was passed out a lot, and anyway it was hard to see through the bars.”

The low note in the Earth’s magic sounded like a growl. Kevin and Renee reined in their horses up ahead, turning to stare at the two of them in concern. “Bars.”

It wasn’t a question. Neil nudged Tilka on towards the others. “How did you think I got here?”

Andrew didn’t answer until they were all moving again, then gestured at the horses. “Like this.”

Neil snorted. “I hardly think they were stupid enough to believe that if they put me on my own horse, I would still be there at the end. I’d been imprisoned in Ravenar for months, why would they take that risk with the treaty on the line?”

Kevin and Renee had stopped their conversation, and he could practically feel them straining to hear. Evidently Andrew could too, judging by the look he gave them. “You were in dampers. You were beaten half to death. Why would they do that if they had you secure in a prison wagon? It was clearly days old by the time you arrived.”

“You think I just sat there and didn’t try to escape?” Neil wasn’t sure if he should be amused or insulted. “I didn’t know what I was heading into; I didn’t really even know about the treaty. I thought I was being sold for your entertainment. And it wasn’t like the guards did anything to make me think otherwise.”

Andrew didn’t answer beyond a tightening of his lips, and they rode on in silence.

By nightfall they were miles into an ancient hardwood forest. Kevin had pulled his magic up around them, shrouding them in camouflage and blending the sounds of the horses and their low voices into the natural music of the woods. They had little to fear while still in Palmetto, but they weren’t taking any chances of spies noting their passage.

Neil’s legs were numb when he dropped to the ground, and he clung to Tilka’s saddle for a minute before he attempted to walk. The others weren’t much better. They were quiet as they picketed the horses and set up an unobtrusive camp in a small clearing Kevin had found.

Neil wanted nothing more than to eat a hasty meal and drop into his bedroll, but before he could even form that sentence Andrew grabbed their canteens in one hand and Neil’s sleeve in another. Sighing, Neil followed him down towards the stream they had crossed, snagging Kevin’s and Renee’s as he went. Renee watched them with humor crinkling her eyes, and Neil almost laughed at the absurdity of a Fire mage going for water, leaving the Water mage to attend the small fire he had started.

They knelt side by side to fill the containers in the cool rush of water. Neil screwed the tops back on before bending to splash some water on his face and scrub horse dirt and sweat off his hands. Andrew followed suit, then sat back on his heels. There was something in his face that made Neil pause.

“You remember what I told you,” Andrew said.

“You’ve told me a lot of things.”

Neil earned a flat look for that. “That night, outside the stables. I’ve no interest in being with someone against their will.”

Neil blinked. He did remember the night in question; it was seared into his memory. It took him a moment to connect that with the conversation they had had earlier that day. “Nothing that we’ve been doing is against my will, Andrew. I told you, I like saying yes to you.”

Andrew reached up to his face, fingertips light enough on his jaw to send shivers down his spine. “So is it a yes?”

Neil nodded, leaning into his touch and letting his eyes close as Andrew’s fingers slid into his hair. The kiss that followed was slow, and deep, and gentle in a way Neil almost didn’t understand. He hadn’t thought himself capable of this. But when they broke apart Andrew’s fingers were trembling slightly and Neil thought he would relive the week in the prison wagon a thousand times if it would give him a chance at this.

He staggered back up to the tiny campsite some unknown time later, tossing Kevin’s canteen at him. There was an emphatic throat-clearing that Neil neatly ignored, turning to coax the fire into burning a little higher.

As exhausted as he was, it should have been easy to drop off once he was in his bedroll. But Kevin snored, a quiet snuffling snore that was just enough to keep Neil on the edge of sleep. After a while Neil used his air magic to smack Kevin in the cheek with a pinecone; Kevin’s snores paused for a second, only to return louder than before.

Neil grumbled quietly to himself and rolled over. Andrew was watching him. His lips twitched upwards, and his hand found its way over to press a finger against the back of Andrew’s.

“Can’t you just suffocate him?” Andrew murmured.

Before Neil could answer, a delicate whistling sound joined in with Kevin’s snuffling. They both sat up to track it back to its source. Renee. Neil smothered a laugh in his hand and flopped back to the ground, wiggling closer to Andrew as he did so. “Tomorrow night, we’re sleeping somewhere else,” he whispered.

Andrew hummed, and rested his hand on Neil’s hip, and eventually the sighing of wind through the trees lured him into sleep.

* * *

The next day was much the same. They wound their way through hills dense with forest, staying hidden in the trees just off the road. Kevin didn’t even seem to break a sweat giving them a clear path, and Neil wondered how much he had underestimated his power. Cashew alternated between scrambling through trees and perching on Kevin’s shoulder. Sometimes he would disappear for a few minutes, only to return to chatter in Kevin’s ear. Each time, they ended up changing course slightly.

Neil wondered what the squirrel knew. Kevin never explained, and nobody asked.

Sometimes they were silent for an hour or more; sometimes Kevin and Andrew got into animated debates about books Neil had never heard of; sometimes Renee joined in with a sweetly incisive counter opinion and set them both off. Once she met Neil’s eye with a sly smile, and he smothered a grin, wondering what she actually thought.

Sunset found them on the shore of a hidden lake. A group of floating wild ducks watched them with wary eyes as they set up camp, but seemed to deem them not a threat. After they had eaten and washed up, Andrew gave Neil a little tilt of the head before turning to head up the shore to another sandy area. Neil grabbed his bedroll to follow.

“Where are you going?” Kevin asked. “We shouldn’t split up yet.”

“Far enough to get out of range of your snoring.”

“I don’t snore,” Kevin said, indignant. “If you want to fuck, just do it and come back.”

“No,” Neil said. “Just because Jean never told you that you snore doesn’t mean you don’t.”

“I didn’t hear you snore,” Renee said reassuringly to Kevin.

Neil huffed. “You snore too, but it’s less obnoxious.”

Andrew made an amused sound next to Neil at the tiny strangled noise Renee made. Both Kevin and Renee started to protest in earnest until Andrew said, “Ask Lieutenant Cashew.”

“What?”

“Kevin. Ask the Lieutenant if you snore. And be honest about the answer.”

Cashew was watching all of this from his perch on a low branch, nibbling on some sort of nut he had found. Kevin cocked his head at him, a silent conversation ensuing. Kevin’s expression got more and more somber, and when they were done he stomped over to his bedroll and got in without a word.

“So, are we allowed to get out of range, your highness?” Neil asked.

“Don’t go far,” was Kevin’s only response.

Neil was still laughing as they picked their way through the brush to the next little sandy area. “I never would’ve thought to ask the squirrel.”

“You would be amazed by how many arguments Lieutenant Cashew has settled.”

Standing, they could still see Renee and Kevin over the brush, but when they lay down it felt like they were alone in the world, save for the rustle of the reeds. The sun had disappeared behind the treeline, leaving behind just a faint orange glow that faded upward into the stars. Andrew had curled up in his bedroll, pillowing his head on his forearm; Neil mirrored his pose.

He would only have to lean forward the slightest bit to meet Andrew’s lips. It was tempting, to lose himself in that; but there was something different about Andrew when they lay so close like this, something he couldn’t put his finger on. So he studied Andrew’s eyes, seeking what had changed, and Andrew stared back no less searching.

“Ask me something,” he whispered.

Andrew reached up to cup his face, fingers automatically starting to play with the ends of his hair. “Why did you decide to stay?”

“What do you mean?”

“You ran for a decade, you can’t tell me you don’t know how. At any point, you could have left. You were imprisoned, you were dragged here against your will, you thought that I—” He cut himself off.

Neil tilted his head to press his lips to Andrew’s palm. “At first, it was the treaty. And Jean. I didn’t know what would happen if I left. But also, I was just...I was tired, you know? I hated running, even though we did it for so long it felt like all I knew.”

It was strange, how different those years felt now. How unreal, like it had happened to someone else, like he had read it in a book. At the time, he had thought he was doomed to spend his whole life as an artifice. Changing countries, changing names. Always waiting to be discovered, even in his sleep. Always waiting for a fatal blow. Always wishing for the impossible.

Then the impossible happened.

“Your turn,” Andrew said.

A thousand questions swirled in his mind. He reached in and plucked one that had been floating about for weeks. “You said before the ceremony that you knew what it was not to have a choice.”

“That’s not a question.”

“How long did it take before you trusted it?” Neil asked. “Having a choice, I mean.”

Andrew’s fingers paused in Neil’s hair. “I still don’t, sometimes.” He slid his hand down to Neil’s chest, pressing it into the edge of the burn scar through his shirt. Neil waited; he could be patient.

“I don’t trust that I will be given one,” Andrew clarified, after an interminable pause. “I do trust that I can impact the outcome, whether other people make that difficult or not.”

“How?” Frustration bled into his voice. He wanted to pull away, he wanted to shuffle closer, he wanted to disappear and never be found and he wanted to curl up in Andrew’s arms and never move.

Andrew seemed to feel it. His hand twisted into Neil’s shirt as he searched for words. “Nobody gives a shit about slaves,” he said finally. “You’re not your own person. You’re nothing, and they don’t hesitate to make that clear.”

He tapped his thumb idly against Neil’s abdomen. “But Wymack was a slave too, before he became a warrior.” Before he became a king.

Neil rolled into him then, finding his mouth with his own. Andrew kissed him back with a ferocity that left him gasping. It was easy to forget, under the heat of Andrew’s mouth and hands. But tonight Neil could feel how hard-won this was in every press of Andrew’s lips, could hear it in the somber notes in the Earth’s music that were the foundation on which the rest was built.

Maybe that was why Andrew called to him so intensely. For there was grief, and rage, and pain underlying his own song, and that made the flame burn all the hotter.

So he surrendered to it; surrendered, but did not forget; and sought the joy in the music that rose all around them.

* * *

They had to shift back to the road as the route started to climb, to save the horses’ legs. Neil carried the deed to his father’s lands that had been ceded to Palmetto, and as they approached the border he had the increasing urge to set fire to it and turn around. The others seemed to feel the same desire; though they kept up their chatter, there was something different about it, something forced and artificial.

Neil appreciated their efforts.

After a quiet evening meal, Renee distributed their tokens of safe passage with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Andrew grabbed Neil’s bedroll along with his own and led him deeper into the woods, away from the lakeshore they had been following. Kevin watched them go, but for once said nothing.

They dumped their packs in a small clearing near where the woods encroached upon the lake, still within hearing range should the others run into a problem. Andrew finished setting up the bedrolls and tugged Neil down onto them. They just lay there, soaking in each other’s body heat.

Neil didn’t want to think about the morning. He pulled Andrew to him and kissed him until his lips were numb, until they were both hard and their breath and magic were mingled together, until all he could think about was getting Andrew closer, and closer still. He broke away from Andrew’s mouth only to trail kisses down his jaw, the column of his throat rough with stubble, feeling the resultant shiver and smiling against his skin.

He reached down the bond between them and felt Andrew reaching too, and Neil held on as tightly as he could. Some foolish part of him thought that if he held on hard enough, the next day would never come, he would never have to feel Andrew getting farther and farther away, never have to feel the bond disappear.

He shivered, and Andrew pulled back, searching his face. A thumb traced along his cheekbone, and it was unbearably gentle, and Neil closed his eyes because he didn’t think he could handle that look.

“What?” Andrew asked, and Neil shivered again.

“The bond. Will I feel it—“ He swallowed down the memory of his mother falling, and amended, “You. Will I feel you from so far away?”

Andrew absently traced patterns up Neil’s arm. “Bee said yes.” Which meant he had asked her. Neil wanted to ask him when, but then Andrew went on. “It’ll be weaker. It...stretches, she said. Gets thinner. But if you try, you should be able to.”

Something twisted in Neil’s chest as he considered that. Somehow in just a month it had become a part of him; like his lungs pulling in air, or the legs he stood on. “What can we do?” he asked.

“This,” Andrew said, leaning back in.

Neil hummed, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips until Andrew kissed it away.

“I want to bed you,” Andrew murmured in his ear.

“Too bad we haven’t seen a bed in days,” Neil said, nipping at that sensitive spot where Andrew’s neck joined his shoulder.

Andrew huffed and let his hand wander down his back. “Are you going to fixate on technicalities?” he asked, his breath tickling Neil’s ear. “I want to fuck you.”

Neil pressed himself closer. “Do you now? I reek of horse.”

“No you don’t,” Andrew said. “You smell like you.”

Neil buried his nose in Andrew’s neck and breathed in, and he understood then what Andrew meant. “Tell me more about what you want,” he murmured.

That wandering hand slipped under the waistband of Neil’s pants. “I want to feel you surrounding me, your body, your magic.” A finger traced his entrance, and Neil shuddered and rutted against Andrew. “I want you to be able to hear the Earth’s song, no matter where you are, and remember this.”

_Remember me_ went unsaid, but Neil could hear it in the low rumble of Andrew’s voice. “And what will you remember?” he asked, as he let his own hands explore.

“Everything.”

All thoughts of the days to come were driven out of Neil’s head by Andrew’s mouth, his hands, his body. He had only ever thought of this as something physical and animalistic, driven by desire for release and little more. But Andrew was slow, and careful, and they were so impossibly close that the physical pleasure was almost secondary to all the rest of it.

Afterwards they lay tangled together, a light breeze drying the sweat on their skin, and Neil closed his eyes and pressed his lips to Andrew’s hair and thought that nothing could ever take this away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so they are headed into Ravenar. I hope you enjoyed this bit! I'm so overwhelmed by the response this has gotten, especially since it's my first real fantasy fic for this fandom. Can't wait to see what you think of this one!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Neil and Kevin journey west to Nathan's estate.

Tilka crested the top of the hill, and Neil reined her in to let her catch her breath while they waited for Kevin. He shook his canteen—still enough to get him through to nightfall. A glance back down the slope showed Kevin’s gelding carefully picking his way around the rocks, Cashew perched on his mane, and Neil allowed himself a private grin at the sight.

The fork lay up ahead. He could see it from here, the reddish-brown lines dividing like a two-headed snake against the green. They had been debating north versus south for a solid day and a half, but Kevin had ultimately won out, with his stupid logic and good sense and reason.

They would take the north fork.

More than a decade had passed since Neil had been on this road, heading into the mountains instead of out of them. He still remembered it. Still remembered shrinking into the carriage seat, trying not to make a sound for hours on end while his father alternated between reading and studying him with a cool, detached air. His skin crawled at the memory, and he shook his head at himself and took another gulp of water.

Kevin caught up then and took a breather, staring down the hillside just as Neil had. The past three days had been tiring, slow going as they climbed through the mountains. The road avoided the worst of the steeps, but it had still been a strain on the horses, and a number of times they had had to dismount and walk a bit of the way themselves.

But now, the trees were thinning out, hardwoods starting to join the pines and spruces that had dominated the mountainsides. In another day, they would be out on the plains, and Kevin’s magic would be hard-pressed to hide them then.

“Do you think they’ve gotten there yet?” Kevin asked, cracking the silence.

Neil shook his head. “I doubt it. Tomorrow.”

His stomach ached at the thought, and the air sang a mournful tune as it whipped past them. He could still feel Andrew down the bond, though it was starting to stretch and thin with the distance between them. Yet there was still impatience there, the restlessness of the unknown, and Neil wanted to smile a little bit as he thought about Andrew’s stoic expression with all of this swirling beneath it.

He followed Kevin down the hill. The fork was farther than it had looked, but each step closer to it was almost physically painful.

Kevin turned north.

There was a buzzing in Neil’s ears as they trotted along. He couldn’t hear his magic’s song, and he reached in, mouth dry, to see if it had somehow disappeared. A wave of relief washed over him when he felt it there, waiting. Guarding.

This was different, he told himself, again and again. Nathan was dead. He was a memory, nothing more, and Neil had power that rivaled Nathan’s own.

But the horses ate up the miles, and the buzzing in Neil’s ears returned as the sun sank low in the sky.

“We should stop here,” Kevin called over his shoulder, gesturing to the clearing ahead. Neil knew that clearing, every inch of it: the spring that rose out of one edge of it; the rocks that had been moved to make a sort of wall around the edges; the purplish vervain and meadowsweet that sprung up through the grass. “There’s water.”

Neil managed some sort of strangled noise that Kevin took as agreement, for he reined in his horse and stepped off the road. Neil stopped just outside of it and vomited over Tilka’s shoulder. She danced a little at his retching, and he tried to soothe her as another wave of nausea hit. Kevin dropped off his horse and grabbed Tilka’s reins, his free hand touching Neil’s knee.

“What is it?”

Neil shook his head. He spit again, and wiped his streaming eyes.

“Neil.”

His name was a command. He took a shaking breath. “There’s a brook, if we keep on riding.”

Kevin glanced over his shoulder, mouth opening as if to say something but closing on nothing. He got back on his horse.

Neil tried to keep his eyes resolutely forward as they passed, but he couldn’t help it. He stared into the clearing, at the cracked stone at the back, and remembered when the entire surface had been little more than ash and smoke and the charred remains of a man.

A couple more miles passed before Kevin tried again, this time using his magic to pick his way through the forest until they found the promised brook. The horses drank deeply, and Neil knelt to splash some water on his face before filling his canteen. He was feeling a little bit more himself, but his legs still trembled and he was relieved when the horses were fed and picketed and he could curl into his bedroll and nibble on some bread.

He pressed his hand against the ground and took a deep breath, allowing the Earth’s song to rise around him. His own magic joined in, subdued but steady, and slowly the pounding of his heart eased and his muscles unclenched.

“Will it help to talk about it?” Kevin asked, not looking up from his own meager dinner of bread and dried beef.

Neil shook his head, and accepted Kevin‘s nod, and then the words started spilling anyway. “My father.”

It was enough of an explanation in itself but Neil waved a hand to the east and went on. “He burned a man alive. I don’t know why; maybe he had stolen something, maybe he learned something he shouldn’t have. Maybe he’d done nothing at all.”

Neil shrugged and dragged a finger through the grass, marveling at the life he could feel beneath his hand. “He made me watch. He always did, when he could. But that time, he told me it was what I was meant to do. ‘The purpose of the power,’ he called it.”

He didn’t tell Kevin that he had spent years dreading his power’s manifestation after that. When he had first heard the fire’s song, he had been ashamed to find it beautiful. By then they were an ocean away, and he had longed for dampers so that no one would know his secret.

But magic was more plentiful there, and it had been only a matter of time before he had started to realize that the song, the power, reflected the mage, it did not rule them.

And so, under his mother’s rough tutelage, he had learned to sing.

He realized like a strike of lightning that this was why he couldn’t hate her. Even when he could still feel her fists on his body, the sting of her palm against his cheek, rough hands yanking him by his hair or his ear—she had given him this. He was but a handful of miles from where his father’s poisonous words had strove to strip away any love he might have for this huge part of himself, and a thousand from where his mother had taught him to listen, to understand, to embrace it as a friend.

It stirred in response to his thoughts, the song becoming a question, and he silently sang a few reassuring notes.

Kevin was playing with a stick, twirling it between his fingers, his eyes following its path. “You know he took Riko under his wing?” Kevin asked, not looking away from the spinning stick. “After you ran.”

“What? I thought Riko didn’t have powers.”

“He doesn’t.” Kevin flashed him a grim attempt at a smile. “But he does enjoy inflicting pain.”

Neil hummed. “That would be something they would have in common.”

Kevin gave the stick one last flip before stopping it with his other hand. “He paid off the Healers well. Nobody ever found out.” He held his hand up, spreading his fingers and studying the back of his hand with a detached sort of wonder. “There’s not even a scar.”

“He...what, he hurt you? On purpose?”

But despite his words, it wasn’t hard to believe, not when he remembered the cruelty in Riko’s eyes as he had stared at Neil through the door to his cell, the glee with which Riko had told him of Kevin’s supposed demise. He wondered what had shifted to make him hate so viciously. Was jealousy really such a deadly poison?

_Yes,_ the air murmured, and Neil knew it did not lie.

“Yes,” Kevin said, quietly enough Neil shifted closer to hear him. “Jean too. Worse, even, I suspect, though he won’t talk about it. At least, not with me. Jean was property, you see.”

“He’s not property,” Neil snapped. “No human is.”

“I know,” Kevin said mildly. “But Riko? And Kengo? They did not see it that way.” He paused, then added, “Ichirou does, or claims to.”

Neil sagged into the comfort of his bedroll. He wanted to pull it up around him, smell the last vestiges of Andrew that clung to it. Somewhere, a mountain range away, he wondered if Andrew was doing the same thing. There was a faint tug on the bond in response to his thoughts, and he tugged back, wishing he could follow it.

“Does Andrew know?” he asked, digging his fingertips into the soil.

“He knows.”

Which might mean interesting things, should he encounter Riko in Castle Evermore.

Neil didn’t voice his thoughts, and Kevin’s snores started up not long after. Neil was too close to memories here to be able to relax. He counted the stars overhead until he finally fell into an uneasy sleep, and when he dreamed he dreamed of fire, and rain, and falling into the weighty darkness of the earth.

* * *

Neil and Kevin stood shoulder to shoulder on the top of the hill, peering down through the trees at the sprawling estate in the valley below. Days had passed in a blink; they had seemed to stretch on into the endless horizon. Standing here now felt slightly surreal, like hovering at the edge of a dream and not knowing if it would end in a nightmare or waking to the dawn.

There were subtle changes to the grounds: a new cattle barn had been built well below the house, the drive had been redone in red and dark gray paving stone, the orchard had been expanded and young trees already were laden with fruit. It was, objectively, beautiful. The estate had been the envy of the other Lords when Kengo had gifted it to Nathan long before Neil’s birth, but even now looking out over it made the bile rise in Neil’s throat. It was a poisonous flower, and he longed to rip it out by the roots.

The air’s song was different, and it took Neil a minute to recognize the influence of another mage. He swallowed down the urge to ask the air to favor him. After all, he had fooled everyone including himself into thinking he lacked Air powers for the better part of a decade; it would be idiotic to spend that secret now, against a total unknown. He beckoned Kevin to bend down, and whispered in his ear, “There’s an Air mage down there.”

Kevin started. “Stronger than you?”

Neil shrugged. “I can’t exactly tell without giving us away, can I?”

He listened intently, trying to figure out what the air was whispering. There was something stifled about it, something muted and sad, and he strained to hear the source of its distress.

When he glanced at Kevin, he looked strangely bare; Cashew was no longer on his shoulder. “Something’s off,” he said quietly.

“What do you mean?”

Neil gestured helplessly. “I don’t know. It’s...restricted. It’s almost like it’s dampened, but incompletely.” He shook his head. “I’m used to Allison’s influence, and my mother’s, but this feels—it feels like it’s sick.”

Kevin’s eyes went distant, and Neil could see something working behind them. “How far is this mage’s reach?”

“I didn’t feel them where we left the horses.”

Kevin nodded and began to retreat. Neil followed him without a word, listening, listening. Abruptly the air’s song lightened, and he felt something ease in his chest. “It’s free again.”

If Kevin heard him he didn’t acknowledge it. They reached the spot where the horses were camouflaged among the trees, and Neil greeted Tilka with a neck rub while he waited for Kevin to finish processing whatever thought had struck him.

“Do you remember when I told you about the Earth mage that was sent to kill me?”

Neil hummed. “I know Andrew killed him instead.”

Kevin shook his head. “Yes, but that’s not what I’m talking about. Andrew said he seemed off, remember? He wasn’t willing to negotiate, or even talk.”

He vaguely remembered Kevin saying something of that kind. Kevin was pacing back and forth, shaking his head as if to drive out some unwanted thought.

“What was it like when you wore dampers?”

Neil crossed his arms protectively over his abdomen. “What do you mean, what was it like? I had my power stripped from me, what do you think it was like?”

Kevin waved a hand impatiently at him. “You wore four. Did you need all four? Would one have worked?”

“I don’t know, Kevin, I was knocked unconscious and woke up with them. It wasn’t like they asked me politely if they could test out ways to keep me from burning them to death, you know?”

Kevin rubbed his face, pressing his fingers into his eyes. “We’re missing something here. Something important. I should’ve asked Jeremy…”

Neil sat down with his back against a tree, waiting for Kevin to form some sort of coherent thought. Absently, his hands found the earth, pressing flat to it and listening to the song. It was quieter; when he pushed into the bond, seeking what he did not know, it felt delicate. Fragile. His head fell back against the rough bark and he wished Andrew was there.

He remembered the way it had felt when the dampers were removed, like he might float away, the rush of power overwhelming his body when the last one fell to the ground. They had been a flat dull gray, and seemed to absorb the light around them. His mother had worn a ring of a similar material all his childhood, he suddenly recalled; a wedding gift from her brother, she had said.

But it had been absent from her hand the night they fled, and he had never seen it again.

“What are dampers made of?” he asked abruptly. A thought was tickling at the back of his head, but he couldn’t quite figure out what he wanted to know.

Kevin stopped his pacing. “An alloy,” he said, frowning.

“Why the alloy? Why not just one metal?”

“Apparently the alloy works better. A single metal…” He froze, his eyes wide. “That’s it.” He grabbed Neil’s shoulders, giving him a tiny shake. “That’s it!”

He released Neil and resumed his pacing, waving his hands like he was conducting an orchestra. “Chromium blocks the ability of the magic to express. Nickel blocks the communication between the mage and the power. And cobalt makes it so the power can’t be sensed, by the mage or anyone else.

“I have no idea what would happen if a single metal was used, or a different alloy. The books I read dismissed all single-metal dampers as ineffective, but if you weren’t trying to suppress the magic completely…”

“I can sense the Air mage, but it feels off.”

Kevin drummed his fingers against his thighs. “It could well be a metal I’m unfamiliar with.”

A rustling sound startled them both. Neil whipped out his flint, his other hand going automatically to his steel. Kevin relaxed, and Neil watched him warily until the rustling stopped and Lieutenant Cashew leaped onto a nearby tree trunk and then onto Kevin’s shoulder. He scrambled around chattering full-speed for a while before finally settling down.

Kevin nodded seriously at whatever the squirrel had to tell. He cocked his head in question, and the color drained from his face at the response. Neil found himself on his feet without even intending to move.

“What?”

Kevin opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “We need to leave. Now.”

* * *

Neil’s arguments had fallen on deaf ears. Kevin hadn’t said a word as he had thrown the saddle on his horse and mounted up; Neil followed suit more out of necessity than anything else. He could’ve stopped him with magic, but no other way, and the magic was too risky.

He had expected to turn back the way they had come, but instead Kevin spurred his horse west. They weren’t far from the onset of the mountains, and before long they were climbing the lower slopes, staying hidden in the trees. They avoided the road altogether, and Neil had a couple moments in which he feared for his life (and a couple more where he considered ending Kevin’s) when they found themselves riding a goat trail alongside a sheer drop.

It was slow going, but Kevin didn’t stop until night fell. He found, or made, a clearing near a mountain stream, and they watered the exhausted horses and set up their bedrolls in silence. Neil bullied Kevin into eating some dried meat and bread by poking him in the arm with it until he gave in out of annoyance, then sat down to his own sorry meal.

“What was that all about?” he asked, once his stomach was no longer trying to digest itself.

Kevin looked like his bread might be about to come back up. “Riko.”

Neil hadn’t been expecting that. “How—”

“I don’t know. The only thing I can think is, it’s close to the mage camp, and he would think nothing of taking over an estate with no owner.”

“That wasn’t what I was going to ask, but also, it has an owner.” He gestured to himself, even as he wondered why he was claiming a place he loathed.

“Technically Andrew owns it. And do you really think Riko would accept losing the land like that? In his mind it—and you—were supposed to be his.”

Neil gagged a little as acid burned his throat. He reached reflexively for the bond, and his breath came easier when it was still there. Faint, soft, but present. He wasn’t Riko’s. He never would be, no matter what.

“Still, even if he was there, why run?”

He watched as Kevin’s face went gray. “You don’t understand. Riko...I’ve told you what he was like. He has mages with him, at least the one but I would bet he’s got more. He _knows_ , Neil. He knows we’re coming, he probably knows we were there—”

“So what?” Neil peered into the darkness in the direction of the estate. “Even if you’re right and he knows we’re here, it doesn’t matter. It’s not his, Kev. It never was.”

Kevin stared at him under the blue light of the moon for a long time before shoving himself deeper in his bedroll and rolling onto his side. Neil followed suit, resting one hand against the ground as he waited for the snoring to start. But the stars drifted past overhead, and still the only sound was the wind in the trees when Neil finally closed his eyes and let himself drift.

* * *

Neil awoke as the first light of a clouded dawn filtered gray-green through the branches overhead. Kevin was asleep, Cashew curled up in his palm. The air stirred around him, a few questioning notes.

He sang back silently, asking it to tell him where the mages were. It danced and shifted, ruffling his hair as his fire magic stretched in a dance of its own. _South,_ the air sang. _Northeast._

While he thought about what to do, he sorted through their supplies. They had stopped a few times in the small towns that cropped up here and there along the east-west road to replenish, but they were far from a town here and they had no more than two days’ worth of food. Easily enough to get them to one place or the other, but not both, especially if something went wrong.

He snorted quietly. If.

There was a quiet strum along the bond, so soft if he hadn’t been looking for it he wouldn’t have felt it. He couldn’t help the gentle twitch of his lips as he pushed back, but he shook his head at himself as he palmed a flame to heat some water. He shouldn’t be so dependent on the bond anyway, he had never meant for that to happen.

Kevin woke while Neil was saddling the horses. Neil shoved food and tea at him and finished packing up while he ate. When they were both done, Kevin stood and faced Neil with a resolute face. “I think we should go to your fa—your estate.”

“I—wait. Yes.” He blinked a couple of times and looked down at his empty hands. “I had a whole speech prepared to persuade you.”

Kevin huffed and went to his horse. “I hate to deprive you, you can tell it to me on the way.”

Neil didn’t waste his breath on that. Instead they made a plan. Well, Kevin made a plan that was so much better than Neil’s that he pretended he hadn’t come up with one of his own.

They took a safer, though less direct, route back. Kevin melted into the trees of the deerpark as soon as they were into the foothills, while Neil rode boldly down the road, his chin lifted in a haughty air he remembered from Riko at Evermore. The clouds had deepened through the day, heavy with impending rain, and he felt his magic longing to reach up to it. But he hummed a soothing song, and the air quieted around him, and the fire curled up to wait.

As he crossed onto the estate, the air went muffled again, and he took a deep breath and strummed the bond, feeling it ripple through him. There came an answering tug, and he smiled to himself as he turned and trotted down the drive towards the gate. The villagers paused in their labors to glance up at the prospect of a visitor, and more than one person gaped as they took in Neil’s face.

The gatekeeper did a double-take when Neil rode up, rummaging in his pocket for his token and deed. The round-faced man glanced nervously from the deed to Neil’s face and back again before he handed it back with a trembling hand. “My apologies, Your Lordship, you were not expected.” He glanced up at the house and gnawed on his lip. “Allow me to fetch the steward, if you please.”

“If you must. Perhaps I could wait inside my gate?” He put a little emphasis on the “my” and the gatekeeper gulped audibly.

“Yes...of course, Your Lordship.”

The gate opened smoothly, and Neil rode through, trying not to flinch when it closed behind him and very nearly succeeding. He watched the gatekeeper hustle his way towards the steward’s house, and opted to take Tilka for a little stroll. The farm appeared to be well-maintained, the vegetables in neat rows, the grain lush and ripe for harvest, the roan cattle his father favored all sleek with summer fat. Beyond the new cowbarn the trees rose in the deerpark, and he hoped Kevin had made it to the wall.

He turned back towards the gate to find the gatekeeper bustling in his direction, the hulking figure of the steward behind him. Patrick had been his father’s steward, a mundane man who more than made up for his lack of magic with his strength, viciousness, and loyalty. Neil had wondered what had happened to him after Nathan’s demise, but since Neil was Neil and luck had never been his friend, the answer appeared to be nothing.

His free hand closed around his flint and he took a deep breath in through his nose, letting it blow out slowly as he rode towards Patrick with his father’s ramrod posture. Patrick watched him coming with an appraising air. Neil hoped he had schooled his face enough to match it, but Patrick’s glance at his fist showed that he had given at least a little bit away.

The silence stretched on, with the gatekeeper looking between them with palpable anxiety. Finally, Patrick blinked and gave a tiny bob of his head, and Neil smiled his father’s smile. “Patrick.”

“Nathaniel.”

Neil waited, and after another endless pause, Patrick cleared his throat. “Lord Nathaniel.”

“I’ve come to check on my inheritance.”

Patrick’s eyes twitched up towards the house, but Neil didn’t make the mistake of looking. “It was my understanding that the estate had a different master. Your Lordship.”

Neil laughed, and he could hear his father echoing in his ears. “I suppose that’s true, if you consider my bonded a different master.”

He pulled the deed from his pocket and held it out, and almost smiled for real when Patrick’s sallow face blanched as he beheld the signatures of the two kings. The steward reached for it, but Neil tucked it out of reach before he could grab it. “If you don’t mind, I wish to continue my tour of the grounds.”

Patrick stepped back, gesturing for Neil to do as he would. As Neil rode past, he heard Patrick ask something, and he reined Tilka back. “Pardon?”

“Will your bonded be joining you?” Patrick asked through his teeth.

Neil saw an opportunity he hadn’t anticipated. “Yes,” he lied. “Prince Andrew plans to come after he finishes paying his respects to the king. I chose to ride on ahead to ensure everything was ready for his arrival.”

With that he rode on. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Patrick striding towards the main house, and he grinned a bit to himself. He wondered what Riko would think of that little twist.

Afternoon was crawling towards evening when he finished his perusal of the main grounds and headed to the deerpark. He could feel the air’s dullness emanating from there, just as Kevin had anticipated. Riko would not want an audience for whatever he had planned. Resisting the urge to tug on the bond, Neil squared his shoulders and turned into the park.

Narrow trails wound their way through the cultivated wood. Movement caught his eye, and he recognized Cashew clambering up a tree trunk, masquerading as an innocent squirrel. Casually he reined Tilka in that general direction, following the path that Cashew dictated and trying not to feel foolish for trusting a rodent the size of his hand.

But the air got heavier, and slower, and more despondent, and it wasn’t long before he rounded a turn into a small clearing and was met by three figures blocking his path.

“Hello, Nathaniel,” Riko said, a slow cruel smile curving his lips. “Welcome home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heh heh heh.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Neil & Kevin confront Riko, and meet some new mages - and an old friend.

“Prince Riko,” Neil said, inclining his head in a show of politeness even as his magic roiled in his core. He had to keep himself under control. He had to give Kevin time.

“You look a bit better than the last time I saw you,” Riko said, in a voice like poisoned honey.

Neil hummed. “I can imagine. Imprisonment doesn’t bring out the best in a person.”

“A regretful necessity,” Riko said, and Neil almost would have believed him if he hadn’t seen the little gleam in his eye. “King’s orders, you know.”

Neil waved a hand. “No matter. It’s all water under the bridge now. After all, we are allies, are we not?”

“Allies. I suppose that is one word for it.”

One of the people flanking Riko shifted slightly. Neil glanced at her, taking in with one sweeping look her simple mage’s clothes, the stiffness in her posture, the gleaming ring on her finger. The heaviness was coming from her.

The other stranger towered over the rest of them. There was something sharp and cold about his face, something that mirrored the cruelty in Riko’s, though rougher, less honed. And on his hand too sat a ring of strange metal.

“What would you call us then?” Neil asked.

Behind Riko, something green stirred.

“I am your master, Nathaniel; surely you know that.”

Neil hummed, pointedly not looking at the vine snaking towards Riko’s legs. “I rather thought when I was sold into marriage with a foreign prince in exchange for peace that all Ravenar claims to me were void.”

An ugly expression danced across Riko’s face before he schooled it into haughty neutrality. “My claim to you predates any that upstart slave-prince might make. You were promised to me, you were meant to serve _me_.”

Neil swallowed down the laugh that threatened at the idea of Andrew demanding Neil serve him. “I believe your brother the king would beg to differ.”

The taller mage stepped forward at that; the Air mage glanced at him nervously and followed suit, and Neil could feel her pulling her power up. It felt odd; disconnected; not music at all, but flat orders without joy. The air resisted her, but when Neil did nothing to counter it obeyed, and his ears popped as the pressure changed.

The first drops of rain began to fall.

“My brother is a fool who does not deserve the title he holds,” Riko spat. “He doesn’t even know the riches that this country possesses.”

“Like your friends here?” Neil asked, gesturing between the two mages.

Riko’s smile was cold and calculating. “Among others. But as Ichirou is too cowardly to take what is his, I must do it for him.”

With that, the tall mage struck; the rain bent towards him, and he gathered it in a ball and flung it at Neil, knocking him from Tilka’s back. She reared and spun away, eyes wide and rolling, but didn’t bolt.

Neil laughed as he got to his feet, brushing mud and leaves off his travel-stained clothes. “Really,” he said mildly, “that seems uncalled for.”

Riko tsked. “You’re as foolish as my brother. You think you have some say here? You think because of some paperwork, the seal of some false king, that you belong to someone else?”

“No.” Neil struck his steel, capturing the sparks and feeding them with his power. “I think I belong to myself. I always have.”

The fire’s song rose up around him as the flames grew, despite the rain, despite the Air mage trying desperately to starve them. But Neil’s magic was stronger, and the air’s song was his, and a fierce joy flooded through him at the beauty of the symphony that swirled around him.

The Water mage struck again, only for the wave he gathered to be turned to steam by the wall of air and fire it met. One part of Neil’s brain registered Riko, tripping over vines as he retreated into the trees, into Kevin’s domain, and he grinned even as his flames burned hotter and hotter, as his wet clothes began to steam.

“How—” The Water mage hissed as Neil shoved the fire at him, and he stumbled backwards trying desperately to subdue it with his feeble magic. But though the mage controlled water, the storm was Neil’s, and it’s wild music roared through the clearing as thunder rolled overhead.

The Air mage had yet to move. She watched with wide eyes, but did not retreat, and there was something in her face that kept Neil from striking in her direction.

_Behind,_ the air whispered, and Neil spun on his heel to see Patrick a half dozen yards away, an enormous club in one hand, a battle ax in the other poised to strike. It was second nature to raise his hands; second nature to call to the rising winds, to the flame, to the power of the storm overhead; and lightning seared the sky, arcing down towards the earth that was also Neil’s friend, and there was a deafening crack, and the song raged on in righteous fury while Neil tried to blink the dazzling sparks out of his eyes.

Slowly, he registered that the world had gone quiet; slowly, he lowered his hands; slowly, so slowly, he spooled his power back and sang a soothing melody, until the fire was merely a tiny blue flame dancing in his hand. The rain went on unabated, drenching him through and soothing his blistered skin from where the steam had burned him.

There was a rustling in the trees, and Neil’s fire sparked until Kevin stepped out, taking in the scene before him. The mages were getting to their feet from where they had been thrown. Riko was bound against a tree by vines and branches, staring at Kevin with a strange sort of hunger in his face. And Nathan’s steward lay sprawled out on the ground, eyes unseeing, felled by the lightning.

Neil closed his fist and his fire snuffed out. That was when he registered the fierce pull on the bond, the fury and the terror and the something else, something warm and tender that he didn’t know how to name. _I’m all right,_ he thought, sending reassurance down the bond. _We’re all right._

The pull briefly got stronger, before subsiding. Neil forced himself not to grasp after it.

“Who are you?” the Water mage asked as Kevin came to Neil’s side.

Kevin flicked him an appraising look, then turned to Neil. “You have no self-control.”

“All evidence to the contrary,” Neil countered, gesturing around him. Though the leaves on the nearest trees were singed, there was no major damage, no lingering embers, just the scents of smoke and ozone that would wash away with the rain.

“You could’ve killed me.”

“Didn’t, though,” Neil said with a shrug. “My magic kind of likes you. Not really sure why.”

Kevin elbowed him in the side, then pulled him in for a rough hug.

“Again,” the Water mage interrupted, “who are you?”

Kevin strode past him towards Riko; the mage puffed up, gathering his element, and Neil sent a blast of air at him to knock him on his ass. The mage shot him a glare, and he shrugged in response.

The Air mage hadn’t taken her eyes off Neil since the brief fight had ended. She was shivering in her wet clothes, and part of him wanted to reassure her but Kevin was now in Riko’s face and that took priority.

“I knew you would come back,” Riko breathed.

Kevin gave a small smile that was the saddest thing Neil had ever seen. “I came back for them,” he said, gesturing to the mages behind him.

Rage overtook Riko’s features, and he struggled, trying to free himself but Kevin’s vines were inexorable. “Why would he have come back for you?” Neil asked. “You tried to have him killed.”

“Wait,” said the Water mage. “This is Prince Kevin? He’s alive?” He looked at Kevin. “You’re alive?”

“Do we have to save this one?” Neil asked Kevin. The Water mage stepped forward, glowering, but he subsided at Neil’s raised hand.

“Save him?” came a new voice. It was the Air mage. “What do you mean, save him?”

Kevin glanced at Riko and shook his head. “I will explain when we are inside. It’s too wet out here anyway.”

Kevin shifted the vines to keep Riko bound—and gagged—and he helped Neil heave him up onto Tilka, who was less than appreciative of the struggling bundle of human now on her back. They headed towards the house in a grim and silent procession, leaving the steward’s body behind.

The yard was dotted with servants, no doubt drawn by the fire and smoke they had seen coming up from the park. Eyes widened as they beheld the procession, and Neil wondered what must be going through their heads. Nobody moved as they passed, until they neared the door and a tall young woman stepped forward to block their entry.

Neil blinked up at her. He hadn’t seen her in a decade; even as a gangly village teenager she had been intimidating, though they had always been secret friends when his parents weren’t looking. Now, she wore her butler’s uniform with a confident air.

“Thea?” Neil asked, almost disbelieving.

She crossed her arms and stared down at him. “Nathaniel.” Neil started to smile, but she went on. “You come back after what, a decade? With no word except some rumor that you were to be married off to some prince? And you’re here for a couple of hours and already wreaking havoc?”

Neil wasn’t sure he had ever felt more like a scolded puppy. Even Kevin looked abashed, and the two mages behind them shifted uncomfortably. Only Riko looked pleased by Thea’s greeting, or as pleased as he could with a mouth full of vine. But then a smile cracked her face. “And you didn’t even invite me?”

Thea scooped Neil up into a fierce hug, and he laughed and grinned and hugged her back. He had forgotten how much he liked her; every memory of this place had been so tangled up in terror and pain that it had fully blotted out the good bits. But such an intense wave of relief at Thea’s solid existence hit him that his legs were shaking as she set him back down.

“You owe me an explanation,” she said, with precisely none of the respect a butler would typically show a lord. “But first, let’s figure out what to do with this situation here.”

“Is the basement still...the basement?” Neil asked, and Thea’s mouth tightened.

“Yes. The prince here,” with a nod in Riko’s direction, “wouldn’t allow us to change it.”

“Then it’s all ready for him.”

“Are we just going to go along with this, Robin?” the Water mage asked, turning to the silent Air mage. “He’s a member of the royal family, this is his property—”

“It’s not,” Neil interrupted, not that the mage’s opinion really mattered. “It’s mine. Well, my bonded’s.”

“Besides, Jack,” Thea said. “We don’t like him.”

“I—”

The Water mage—Jack—fell silent as Neil struck his flint. Neil caught the smothering of a smile on Robin’s face, and felt a flicker of solidarity that had nothing to do with the power they shared.

Dragging a protesting Riko down to the holding cells in the basement was one of the more satisfying things Neil had done. Melting the keyhole to the lock so it couldn’t be opened was even more so. Kevin untied the vines with his magic once Riko was secure, and after Thea assigned a pair of guards she trusted they all headed up to the kitchen.

He hadn’t realized how exhausted he was until he nearly collapsed in a chair. Kevin did the same. Thea shook her head at the pair of them while she set out an enormous meal with rapid efficiency, and wouldn’t let them talk until they’d made their way through a bowl of soup and started on the roasted chicken and summer vegetables.

The other two mages picked at their food with nervous glances at Neil and Thea. Somehow Kevin escaped their scrutiny, which would’ve amused Neil if it weren’t for the bone-deep fatigue that had him longing for a real bed. Cashew emerged from Kevin’s pocket to sit on the table and nibble on a handful of nuts and some vegetables that Thea provided.

“So,” Thea said, when Neil was slowing down. She sat next to him and punched him in the arm.

“Ow.” Neil rubbed it. “Unfair.”

“Fair. You were supposed to be gone for a few months, Nathaniel.”

“It’s Neil.”

“Neil. Few months. Ten years. These are not the same.”

Neil sighed. “No. They’re not.”

So he told her. About the flight to the sea, the month-long voyage hidden in the ship’s hold, the years of running through country after country. About his power manifesting, and the terror in his mother’s face the first time he made the fire dance; about the schools he attended, and the places they hid; about how in the end it hadn’t been enough. About the months he spent in one prison or another, the wounds the dampers caused his body and his soul; about Riko’s taunts and Ichirou’s treaty; about Palmetto, finding Jean, finding Kevin, finding Andrew. About finding himself again.

When it came to Jeremy and the story of the hidden mages, he hesitated. Jack and Robin had both been listening, Robin intently, Jack with a skeptical air. Neil glanced at Kevin, asking the silent question with his eyes. Kevin half-shrugged, half-nodded, and Neil ate a few more bites as he thought about what to say without incriminating Jeremy in case things should go wrong.

In the end, he told a tale of rumors proven true, of children taken and sold, of magic suppressed and corrupted in an effort to create soldiers out of free-willed mages. Robin seemed to curl in on herself as the story progressed, while Jack’s face became more and more set.

“This is horseshit,” Jack said when Neil was done. “You just wish to turn us to your side for your own purposes. Allies.” He snorted. “Why would we ally ourselves with you?”

Neil forcibly relaxed his grip on his fork so he wouldn’t send it through Jack’s hand. “The treaty is public record, if you wish to check my claims on that front. But I would ask you, what led you to end up in Tetsuji’s care?”

Jack’s face paled. “It was an honor,” he said, raising his chin. “I was recruited. I was the only member of my family with potential for power.”

“And you?” Neil asked, turning to Robin.

If possible, she hunched into herself even more. “I was taken,” she said, and though her eyes were staring at some past horror her voice was steady. “I don’t remember how. I was to be sold, you see, when I was a bit older. But when slavery was outlawed, they had little use for me. I was dumped on the streets, and they found me there.”

The room was quiet save for the crackling of the hearth fire. “So what happens now?” Thea asked.

“Now, we send a letter east,” Kevin answered. “There is still much we don’t know, and we need to advise King Ichirou, and our friends, of what we have learned here.”

“What of Prince Riko?” Jack asked. “You can’t just leave him down there.”

“We can, and we will,” Neil said. “He is guilty of plotting treason. Ultimately his fate is up to King Ichirou, but I will not risk my safety, nor that of anyone else here or at the mage camp by releasing him.”

The rest of the evening passed in a haze. Kevin wrote the letter and Neil was pretty sure he read it before signing his name at the bottom; then he found himself ushered upstairs into a bath with a bed very nearby. It wasn’t his former room, and he wasn’t sure how Thea knew but he appreciated it.

He glanced over the blistered burns on his arms and chest. They were already starting to heal, but he dug around in the cabinets until he found a salve he could use. He knew Kevin would want him to call a healer; so would Andrew, for that matter, but by the time one arrived he would be mostly healed already. So he smoothed the salve carefully over the reddened skin and let himself drop into the pillowy bed, and before he could blink sleep claimed him.

* * *

“What did you mean when you said my magic was dampened?”

Robin wasn’t looking at him. She stared down at her plate, poking at the crumbs with her spoon, but he could feel the intensity of her focus.

Jack hadn’t disappeared in the night, as Neil had half-expected he would. There was something protective in the way he watched Robin interacting with Neil, as if he was ready to snatch her out of harm’s reach. It would’ve been almost sweet, if Jack wasn’t such an ass.

“It feels...off,” he said. “The song, it’s slower than it should be, and quieter.”

Robin glanced at Jack, who had the same confused expression that she then turned on Neil. “Song?”

Kevin looked up from the book he had snagged off an end table in the parlor. “You don’t hear it?”

“Hear what?” Jack asked, infusing as much disdain as he could manage into his voice.

“Told you,” Kevin said to Neil.

Neil’s eyes drifted down to the ring on her finger, and he dragged them back up to her face. “Each power has its own music,” he said, dredging up what he had learned from his mother, from the teachers at the various schools. “That’s how we influence it, we adjust the song to suit our needs.”

Jack laughed. “You’re mad. He’s mad,” he said to Robin. “I’ve never heard any such thing.”

Robin’s spoon scraped across her plate, drawing a picture with her crumbs. “I have,” she said in a small voice. “When my power first started to manifest, I kept hearing something. I thought I was losing my mind. And then—” She bit back whatever she was going to say.

“Then,” Kevin prompted, his book forgotten in his lap.

“Then they told me they would help me to focus my mind. It would let me better control the power.” She looked up at Neil, something desperate in her face. “They said all mages needed it, or the power would take them over.”

“What did they give you?” Kevin asked.

She gulped. “My ring.”

“They lied,” Neil said, ignoring Kevin’s triumphant look. “You don’t need anything to help you, you work _with_ your power, you don’t need to fight it.”

“Horseshit,” Jack said. “You wear one.”

Neil looked down at the beautiful gold band that adorned his left hand and bit back a laugh. “This has nothing to do with my power,” he said, slipping it off his finger and flipping it so it landed back in his palm. “This is just a symbol of my bonding.”

“Prove it,” Jack spat, and Neil clenched his teeth and counted to ten.

Suddenly he missed Andrew so much it ached. He longed to go out and press his hands to the earth, to hear the way its song melds with fire, with air, with storm. He wanted to feel Andrew’s hands on his skin, listen to his heartbeat while they lay together, sit on the rooftop and watch the stars arc across the sky.

The bond tugged, and he took a breath and tugged back, and somehow it felt more solid than it had just the day before. Maybe it was just from the intensity of his longing, maybe from the explosion of magic he’d unleashed, but he felt a welling of gratitude that despite everything, he hadn’t lost this.

Neil stood abruptly enough his chair wobbled dangerously. He stalked over to Jack, pocketing his ring as he went. Grabbing Jack’s shirtfront in his fist, he hauled him to his feet and dragged him outside, not stopping until they were far away from the buildings.

Robin and Kevin had followed them, the former concerned, the latter looking privately amused beneath his haughty facade. “You think I need my ring to focus my power? Try now. Fight me.”

“Why should I? You’re mad.”

“I will,” Robin said, and Neil felt a smile pull at his lips. Robin was not one to underestimate.

“Give your ring to him,” Jack said, gesturing to Kevin.

Neil shrugged and complied, then struck his flint and built a small flame. “Blow it out,” he said.

Robin’s brow furrowed as she raised her hand, and Neil listened to the air’s resistance as she ordered it to blow out the fire. He sang his silent song, and the air chose to listen, shielding and feeding the flame rather than snuffing it out. Robin tried a different tack, attempting to pull the air away as she had the night before, but given the choice between demand and request the air chose the request, and the flame did not flicker.

She dropped her hand in frustration. “Fine. You don’t need your ring to focus your power.”

Neil laughed as he spooled the fire back in. “Neither do you.”

Her unfettered hand went to play with it, twisting it around and around. “What happens if it doesn’t work? What if my magic just doesn’t work like yours?”

“You won’t know unless you try.”

She swallowed hard, and then with a swift movement tugged off the ring and held it out. Neil reflexively offered his palm, and she dropped it in. It was light, and warm from her skin, and Neil wanted nothing more than to fling it as far away from himself as possible.

Neil could feel it when the heaviness lifted, and it almost took his breath away. “Oh,” Robin said, and pressed her hand to her temple. “I can hear it.”

Jack made an aborted move towards her, before opting to cross his arms and glare. Neil just listened to the joyous song as the air swirled around Robin. It reminded him of a dog greeting a trusted friend, and he wanted to grin. Robin sank slowly into the grass, tears in her eyes when she looked up at him. “It’s—beautiful.”

And Neil’s own eyes burned as he looked down at her and remembered saying the same thing to his mother, so many years ago. “It is.”

* * *

A day passed, and another. Riko whined and complained and yelled and threatened, until his guards begged to be released from their duties. Thea told them to take a break, disappeared into the basement for a while, and returned with a smile of grim satisfaction. “He won’t be an issue, at least for a while.”

“What did you do?” Kevin asked, aghast.

“A few creative threats to his manhood, such as it is. I may have also reminded him that Neil could kill him without breaking a sweat, but was opting to let King Ichirou have that honor. And then told him that my toddler niece was less annoying, and he should strive to be more like my toddler niece. I offered to continue on and he opted to keep quieter instead.”

Neil thought Kevin might be half in love with her after that.

There was a surreal quality to the days as he met with all the myriad people required to keep the estate running. He was pretty sure those who had known him as a child were feeling a similar sort of discombobulation. No part of the past decade had prepared him for this. Thea had the house well managed, but Patrick’s death left the property without a steward. Neil debated options for hours on end until finally he threw all the papers he had been going through at Kevin and stormed through the house in search of Thea.

“Will you murder me in my sleep if I make you steward too?” he asked without preamble.

She looked up from whatever sort of bookkeeping she was doing and blinked at him for a second. “I might be more inclined to murder you if you don’t.”

“All right. Done.”

Kevin worked with Robin and, reluctantly, Jack, while Neil dealt with the tediousness that was the estate. At night, Kevin shared what information he had gleaned about the lost mages, a careful stockpile of findings to share with Ichirou...and Wymack. They were doing what they had come for, Kevin reminded him, when his legs wouldn’t stop their movement.

But still, he could not rest. There was too much unknown, too much dependent on a king’s whim and a tenuous alliance. Even when he slept, he ran in his dreams, and he couldn’t tell if he was running towards something or away.

He awoke to a pull on the bond, too strong to ignore. It yanked him out of bed, and he pressed a careful hand to his abdomen as he stared out into the grayness that preceded the dawn.

_Something’s wrong,_ he thought. There was no answer down the bond, just a stronger and stronger pull. He ran.

Tilka waited patiently while his fumbling fingers buckled her tack, and the second he was in the saddle she was off. His heart was pounding to her hoofbeats as they cantered across the grass. _Find him, find him, find him._

The lights of the gatehouse were a beacon, and he rode towards it with his heart in his throat. The gatekeeper was already out at the gate, and Neil wondered how he knew to be waiting when he saw a shadow on the other side that solidified into the faint gleam of a horse as he approached.

And then—a burst of joy and recognition down the bond, and he flung himself out of Tilka’s saddle and ran the last few yards.

“...need to notify the steward before I can let you in.”

“Let him in,” Neil gasped, nearly choking on his heart.

“Your Lordship?” The gatekeeper sounded shocked, but Neil didn’t care.

“Let him in.” He could barely hear himself over the chorus of magics that rose around him, the earth and the air and the fire swelling until it almost took him off his feet.

He was dimly aware of the gate creaking open, of a horse entering, of someone talking and more voices rising up. But none of that mattered, for he was there, he was there, he was in Andrew’s arms and his face was buried in Andrew’s neck and he was breathing in his scent and he was there, he was there, he was home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After all the comments on the last chapter, I guess I have to apologize for Neil not killing Riko? But wow I can't thank you all enough for your comments and thoughts! Hope you enjoyed this bit too!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which King Ichirou makes an appearance, and there is a reckoning.

“What are you doing here?” Neil asked, some indeterminate period later when he could find words. Somehow they had stumbled their way into Neil’s bed, Neil still wasn’t sure how. They hadn’t done anything beyond lying tangled together, breathing each other in, until Neil’s heart finally slowed its breakneck pace.

Andrew huffed a laugh against Neil’s skin. “I might ask you that. I wasn’t expecting the dramatic show at the gate.”

Neil hummed and dragged his nose up Andrew’s neck, relishing the little shiver it elicited. “You yanked on the bond. I thought you were in trouble.”

“Trust you to go riding into possible danger in your nightclothes.”

Neil glanced down at himself; he hadn’t even realized he had forgotten to put on proper clothes. Thea had procured some sort of silken ridiculousness for him to sleep in that fell almost to his knees, and he had merely yanked on his breeches and boots before fleeing.

“What happened?” he murmured.

Andrew’s arms tightened briefly around him. “Turns out King Ichirou had his own informants in the matter. He had been setting a trap for Riko, which Kevin indicated you managed to bypass altogether. Not totally certain how pleased Ichirou was for all his hard work to go for nothing. Our appearance at Castle Evermore served only as a catalyst for him to act. We were already on our way when we received the letter, though I will admit that did serve to spur us on a bit.”

Neil digested that. “And earlier? The pull I felt?”

There was a pause while Andrew fiddled with the hem of Neil’s overlong shirt. “I couldn’t sleep,” he admitted. “We were so close, just at the inn at the crossroads, not more than a dozen miles from here. I was hunting up a bit of food and ran into the cook. He told me about some dustup at the estate and a dead steward. When I reached the drive I just needed to feel you.”

He didn’t need to explain further. Neil sought his mouth then, and Andrew opened to him readily. A part of him thought that they would devour each other, after the weeks apart, but Neil found himself wanting to savor this, savor him. He buried his hands in Andrew’s hair and kissed him, slow and deep, until they were both breathless and Neil thought his chest would crack in two. And then he kissed Andrew’s forehead, and his eyelids, and his cheeks, one by one, and his jaw, soft-rough with stubble, and the column of his throat. And when he felt Andrew’s lips brush against his temple, he closed his eyes and held on as tight as he could and surrendered to the joy.

A knock on the door startled him awake. He blinked blearily at the daylight streaming through the window, and smiled as Andrew’s arm wrapped around him, trapping him where he lay. A second knock came, and then the door swung open, revealing an irritated Kevin. “Neil, Thea said you haven’t—Oh.”

He seemed to lose his footing for a moment at the sight of Andrew in Neil’s bed, but it didn’t take him long to recover. “Why are you here?”

“You disapprove of me spending the night with my bonded?” Andrew asked. There was a layer of amusement under the surface irritation, and Neil hid his smile in his pillow.

“No, though you never bothered to before,” Kevin said. “But why are you here? In this house, on this side of the country, without Renee?”

“Wow,” Andrew said. “He got judgmental.”

“He was always judgmental,” Neil answered. “He was judgmental when he was ten.”

“That’s true,” Kevin said. “And you’re not answering my question.”

“Hungry?” Andrew asked Neil, ignoring Kevin completely.

“A little. You?”

Andrew hummed. “A bit.” He leaned in to take Neil’s earlobe in his teeth.

“I’m right here,” Kevin said. “And breakfast is downstairs. And you still haven’t explained why you’re here.”

Andrew released Neil to peer out the window. “Give it an hour,” he told Kevin. “You’ll get all the answers you want.”

Once the door had closed behind Kevin, Andrew asked, “Is there someone we should advise that Ichirou will be here in an hour?”

Neil sighed, nipped Andrew on the edge of his jaw, and sat up. “Unfortunately, yes, unless we all want to be flayed alive.”

Andrew huffed. “I would like to see someone try.”

Neil gave him a rueful grin. “You haven’t met Thea.”

“Mage?”

Neil shook his head. “Butler.”

* * *

King Ichirou had changed little in the decade since Neil had seen him last. He had half a dozen years on Neil, but if it weren’t for the weariness in his eyes he could have passed for not yet twenty. Neil studied him, trying to figure out who those eyes reminded him of while they went through the usual rituals that politeness dictated.

The king’s mouth twitched as Neil bowed to him, the motion a bit rusty from disuse. “Nathaniel. I hear you’ve been busy, back on your home soil.”

Heat crept up the back of Neil’s neck. “Your Majesty. It’s an honor to welcome you.”

“Did you enjoy your homecoming?”

Neil bit back the urge to laugh. “I might have preferred it to be a little less eventful, Your Majesty.”

Andrew made an amused sound at his side. “A fool’s hope, with you,” he murmured.

Ichirou ignored that, turning to Kevin, who greeted the king far more gracefully than Neil. There was a strange sort of relief in Ichirou’s face as they exchanged pleasantries, and it struck Neil—they had been brothers once, too.

The door opened, and Neil’s stomach dropped to his knees when Lola walked in, trailed by Renee. Kevin spared them only a glance, Ichirou not even that; Neil concentrated on breathing so he wouldn’t vomit as Lola sidled up to him. Neil couldn’t help but flinch out of reach, and Andrew’s hand on his back was the only thing that kept him from making a spectacle. “Junior,” she said, and there was concealed rage behind her eyes.

Ichirou did look at her then, if only for a second before returning his attention to Kevin.

“Lady Lola,” Neil said. “You look well. Nice to see that the healers at Palmetto do good work.”

Andrew’s fingers dug into his back in silent warning. Renee greeted Neil with a gentle hug. When she released him Lola was at Ichirou’s side, a muscle twitching in her jaw as Renee squared up to her with a smile that looked more like a warning.

Thea waved a hand, and tea was brought. As soon as the servants had finished pouring and slipped from the room, Ichirou fixed Neil with a level stare. “I understand you have a tale to tell.”

Neil glanced at Kevin, who looked a bit green as he stared into his teacup, his knuckles white where his fingers wrapped around it. He took a deep breath, swallowed, and met Ichirou’s eyes. “You know about the information we received.” Ichirou gave a slight incline of his head in acknowledgement. “Your brother would seem to confirm our suspicions. He also attempted to lay claim to me. He indicated that his rights to me supercede the treaty that you signed.”

Andrew twitched, and Neil could hear the earth’s protest. Lola threw Andrew a deadly smirk while she toyed with her cup.

“So you indicated in your letter,” Ichirou said, ignoring that exchange. His eyes had a faraway look as he scanned Neil, and Neil wondered what the life magic’s song sounded like, if it found truth on Neil’s tongue. “What proof have you?”

“The two mages he attempted to use as protection can testify to our...exchange. They were trained by your uncle.”

One of the king’s eyebrows went up. Lola’s face blanched, then reddened, and Neil watched the slight stiffening in Ichirou’s posture, the way he did not look at her.

“Also, Riko is...detained downstairs, should you wish to question him.”

Ichirou sipped his tea, then set the cup precisely in the saucer. “Bring in the mages. One at a time, if you please.”

Thea disappeared, returning a couple of minutes later with Robin and an expression of suppressed amusement. Neil shot her a questioning look, but she just shook her head and mouthed, “Ass.” Or maybe it was, “Jack.” They were interchangeable, after all.

Robin tripped over her curtsey, almost stumbling into Andrew’s chair, then starting back in dismay. Ichirou rubbed a hand over his mouth, and Neil got the impression he was smothering a smile.

A long-ago moment flashed behind Neil’s eyes. A much younger Ichirou, barely Andrew’s height; Riko and Kevin clambering about him, pulling on his traveling cloak, talking over each other as they asked for stories about school. Neil had hung back with Jean, too shy to approach but no less eager to hear. Ichirou had done the same thing, smoothing away his amusement as he considered what story to tell.

Neil blinked, and he was back in his father’s parlor, his eyes stinging at the destruction that time had wrought.

Ichirou listened to Robin’s tale without comment, merely asking a question here and there. Neil could feel Andrew’s tension building as she talked about her captors, and the refuge that the camp offered. When she got to the conflict with Riko, Andrew seemed ready to burst out of his chair, though he hadn’t moved a muscle.

Ichirou turned to Neil when Robin’s story was done. “You’re a Storm mage.”

Robin gave a tiny squeak of surprise, but Lola—Lola looked murderous. Neil bowed his head. “As you knew as soon as you arrived. Your Majesty.”

Again, the hand over the mouth. This time Neil’s own lips twitched, and Andrew kicked his ankle lightly. Neil glanced at him before turning to Robin. “How did you not notice? You were right there.”

She crossed her arms, then uncrossed them with a nervous look at Ichirou. “I don’t know, I didn’t really think Storm mages were real.”

“So the lightning was just a useful coincidence?” Kevin asked.

Robin shrugged. “Could be. I’d just watched Prince Riko get assaulted by a tree, what did I know?”

Ichirou cleared his throat and attempted to drink from his empty teacup. Thea hurried to refill it, and he gave her a tiny nod. “I would like to speak to the other mage. If you don’t mind.”

“Robin, if you could send Jack in?” Neil asked.

She nodded and fled, bouncing off the door jamb in her haste. Jack appeared so quickly he must’ve been hovering in the hallway. As soon as he saw Ichirou he dropped into a low bow.

The questioning went much the same, though Jack attempted to curry favor by painting Riko’s actions in a more positive light. Ichirou’s eyes went distant several times, and all traces of good humor left him by the end. Though how much of that was from Jack’s obsequiousness and how much from Lola’s barely contained emotions, Neil couldn’t tell.

There was a long silence, and then Ichirou stood, causing the rest to spring to their feet. He waved them off. “I will go speak to my brother. Alone.”

“Your Majesty,” Lola began, but he silenced her with a look, and Thea showed him the way to the basement.

“Neil,” Kevin started, but Neil turned away. He needed air. He needed the feel of the earth beneath his feet, he needed a moment just to hear that song untainted. Andrew followed him out, and they didn’t stop until they were out among the late summer roses, far from anyone else. Neil leaned against Andrew once they had dropped onto an old stone bench, and he wasn’t surprised when Andrew kicked off his shoes, sighing as his feet rested against the tended earth.

Minutes passed as their music swarmed around them, the breeze tickling the rose bushes and stirring up the sweet fragrance. Slowly, the tension leached out of their muscles. Neil brushed his lips against Andrew’s shoulder.

“How does he not see it?” he murmured.

Andrew hummed. “Lola, you mean?” Neil nodded. “I think he does. I would bet her life on it, actually. But she has cleaned up her tracks well, and with her status, he can’t just destroy her without proof.”

“He’s the king, he can do whatever he wishes.” But even as he said it he knew why that was not true. “I hate her,” he whispered.

“You’re not alone.”

Neil huffed, and pressed his mouth to Andrew’s neck, and his jaw, and his temple, and his lips, and marveled at that truth, so large and so simple.

He was not alone.

* * *

The wine may have been a mistake.

Ichirou had emerged from the basement looking unruffled as ever, but then had disappeared for a walk around the grounds, declining all company. Lola’s expression promised murder when she was denied access to Riko, a jet of flame reinforcing Neil’s mild refusal. Robin offered to stand guard, and Neil smiled a little to himself at the thought of her happily ripping the air from Lola’s lungs.

But dusk had fallen, and Ichirou had returned for the evening meal, and Lola had excused herself as soon as the main course was finished. The rest sat around, nibbling on fruit and cheese and some sort of pastry heaped with clotted cream. Thea was not stingy when it came to raiding the estate’s cellars, and their glasses never came close to being emptied. Neil was feeling warm, and sleepy, and he wanted to curl up in Andrew’s arms and kiss the night away.

He thought the others might object if he started on that now, but he wasn’t totally sure how much he cared.

Thea refilled his glass, and Neil reached for it only for Andrew to whisk it away. “Water,” Andrew said, and Neil made a face. Water was fine, but it didn’t make him feel like this. It didn’t make him realize how the tips of Andrew’s eyelashes gleamed in the candlelight, or how much he liked the curve of his lip, or the breadth of his shoulders.

Kevin’s cheeks were a little flushed as he waved his hand, explaining some sort of obscure magical theory that Neil had never heard of. It was fascinating, really. Even Ichirou looked rapt. Neil had always known Kevin was intelligent but he had never realized how interesting he was before.

Andrew’s hand found its way to his thigh. Neil laced their fingers together. Kevin’s story came to an end, and Neil floated on the tide of his words as they ran out. Everyone was quiet. Neil’s wine glass was missing, and he looked around for it but settled for the water that had taken its place.

Ichirou was watching him. Again. He seemed to always be watching.

“I have sent for my uncle,” Ichirou announced.

Neil nodded; the others did the same, save for Renee who looked wary. He didn’t know why she looked wary. She needed more wine.

“What do you plan for Riko, if you don’t mind my impertinence?” Renee asked.

Ichirou tapped his fingers against his glass, and Thea refilled it obediently. He didn’t speak for a long moment, and the silence felt like low clouds before a storm.

“How did you come to Palmetto?” he asked, fixing Renee with a calm stare.

She blinked at him, a tiny wrinkle appearing between her eyes before some force of will smoothed it away. “I was a mercenary,” she said.

He gave her a small smile. “You did some work for my father, if I recall correctly.”

“I did.” Neil started in surprise, and Andrew gave his fingers a small squeeze beneath the table. “I did work in Trowia, and Ravenar, and Palmetto. There was much need then, with so much unrest.”

One hand came up to play with the pendant she always wore. Her eyes were fixed on the candle in the center of the table, with its tiny dancing flame. “I fought in Palmetto’s civil war. The deposed king tried to hire me. Perhaps I might have signed with him, had I not met Wymack. I hadn’t known, really, what it was to matter for myself, and not merely for what I could provide for other people.

“But Wymack saw me. Not just my power. I wasn’t just a weapon, I was a person with him. So I fought for him, and after the war I went on my way.” She looked up at Ichirou. “That was when I worked for your father, among others. And I realized I wanted more. So I went back.”

Ichirou held her gaze, and there was nothing distant in his eyes. “Did you find it?”

Renee smiled, slow and sweet. “I did.”

“It is a strange thing, to be a Life mage,” Ichirou mused after a moment. “You can hear all the songs, for they all stem from Life, but you only can master your own.” He stood, and chairs scraped as the others followed suit. At the door, he looked back at Renee. “My brother shall stand trial. So shall my uncle, should my suspicions prove true. For I can hear it, what they have done to the songs, and I would be a poor king indeed if I heard that and stood idle.”

* * *

The air crackled and hummed as they stood out under the cloudless sky. Ichirou lounged with a false casualness in a garden chair; the others were dotted here and there across the lawn. Neil took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to soothe the power that sparked within.

He leaned into Andrew and closed his eyes against the brightness of the midday sun. He wished for a moment that he was back in Palmetto, sprawled out on the rooftop, listening to the wind whispering to the trees. But it was a foolish wish.

Tetsuji was coming.

He had no magic of his own. The curse of the second son, Ichirou had called it, with a sad twist of the lips. Neil still wasn’t sure if he meant the lack of magic, or the bitterness that had twisted these second sons as a result. Yet his mundane status did not mean he lacked power.

Neil could see it, the way the servants made way when he came into view. Even Ichirou rose to his feet, and the air murmured, and the earth’s music quivered.

Tetsuji carried himself like every bit of the prince he was. Neil wasn’t certain he had ever met him, but he reminded him strongly of King Kengo, much more so than either of his nephews. He stopped in front of the young king, taking his measure with cold dark eyes before offering a cursory bow.

“Ichirou,” Tetsuji said, and Neil almost shivered at the iciness in his voice.

“Uncle.” Ichirou returned the bow. “Death has suited you.”

Tetsuji arched an eyebrow. “I wish I could say Kingship has done the same for you.”

Kevin and Lola twitched, but the king gave a closed-lip smile. “I will admit I had not wished to assume the station in this way. Perhaps it is grief you see weighing on me.”

They stared at each other for an endless moment, until Neil wanted to scream or set something on fire just to make it stop. Tetsuji was the one to break, and his hands shook slightly when he looked away. “And my other nephew? Where is he, is he also consumed with grief?”

“I believe you know the answer to that as well as I do.”

Tetsuji’s mouth tightened as he scanned the array of mages. “Why have you called me here? I assume you must have a reason for making an old man ride across mountains, as....pleasant as this family reunion may be.”

“I suppose the chance to visit with my long-lost uncle is not reason enough?” Ichirou settled back down in his chair.

Tetsuji hesitated a moment before following suit. “Had that been your only goal, you could have come to me. Obviously you figured out where I live.”

Ichirou sipped his tea, watching Tetsuji over the rim of his cup. “I’m not foolish enough to walk into a war camp of mages without being certain of my welcome, Uncle.”

Tetsuji’s throat bobbed. “War camp? What nonsense is this?”

“For what other reason would you be training mages in secret?” Ichirou waved a dismissive hand, as if the answer didn’t matter. Neil could see the back of Tetsuji’s neck redden. “Though apparently people actually were gullible enough to believe it was an orphanage.”

“I didn’t think you would summon me just to make false accusations,” Tetsuji sniffed. “I will admit I expected more from my brother’s son.”

The air swirled around Neil, whispering, _dangerous, dangerous_. He wondered for a second how a mundane could be a danger to this collection of mages, until he realized it wasn’t referring to Tetsuji.

Yet Ichirou’s expression did not change, though his voice was filled with steel. “And I would have expected you to know not to lie to a Life mage, _Uncle_. Though perhaps you do not recall the true talents of an undampened mage, since you insist on suppressing the songs of those in your care.”

“You are a foolish, idealistic child,” Tetsuji snarled, all pretence of composure gone.

“Perhaps I am. But I am still king.”

“A king who surrounds himself with princes of foreign lands?” Tetsuji spat, gesturing at Andrew and Kevin where they stood, stone-faced, on either side of Neil. “A king who surrenders all pretence of pride? Who surrenders his own country?” Tetsuji shook his head. “My brother must be disappointed in his choice of heir.”

“I hardly think withdrawing from an unwise invasion counts as surrendering my country. Nor forming an alliance with a country that means us no harm. Quite the opposite, rather.” Ichirou’s face hardened. “Stripping Ravenar of its natural power for one’s own ambitions, on the other hand…”

“You make some heavy accusations. What evidence have you?”

Ichirou reached into his pocket and withdrew a small metal object, flipping it towards Tetsuji, who caught it out of the air. He stared at the ring—Robin’s ring—in his palm as color leached from his face. As though following a signal, Robin and Jack emerged from the house to stand behind Ichirou. Robin lifted her chin as Tetsuji shot her a glare, and Neil wondered if he had any sense at all of how much power she had now that she was free.

“How naive do you believe me to be?” Ichirou asked. “I have known about your plot for some time. It has taken longer than I wished, I will admit, to gather what information I needed. But I have a paper trail, and I have witnesses, and I need not wait any longer.”

He got to his feet, and Lola twitched as though to move closer, but he stopped her with glance. “You say you wish to know why I have called you here. It is for this: to formally charge you with treason, with abduction, and with plotting against the crown.”

* * *

Nighthawks flew overhead, black silhouettes against the orange sky. Neil lay on grass still warm from the sun, Andrew a comfortable weight sprawled out on top of him, his fingers slowly combing through Andrew’s hair. He had hidden here often as a child, the little alcove tucked away, invisible from the house.

It used to be the only place he could breathe.

Fatigue pulled at him. He had been expecting something more of drama, of threats or cursing as Tetsuji was shackled and placed in a coach, Ichirou’s guards silent and stern on either side of him. It had seemed too easy, especially when Riko had been bundled in after him, a strange hope behind his eyes as he stared at his brother. Neil wondered again what Ichirou had said to him.

Andrew hadn’t spoken since Tetsuji had arrived. He had nodded when Ichirou requested his help addressing the mages, and then he had spun on his heel and disappeared into the garden. Neil had started after him, but Renee had stopped him with a gentle hand. So he had listened to the Earth’s song, and only sought Andrew out when it had started calling out to air and fire.

“Why do you allow him to call you Nathaniel?” Andrew asked suddenly.

Neil played with a wayward twist of hair for a moment before answering, “I don’t know.”

Andrew shifted onto his elbows to look in his face. “You do.”

“I don’t know how to explain it, I guess. It’s...Nathaniel is who I was, when they knew me.”

“But it’s not anymore.”

Neil shrugged; Andrew waited, patient as the earth. Or as stubborn. “I got rid of my father’s name when we were on the run. We changed names all the time, you see. And I got used to slipping into different names, but in my head I was still Nathaniel. I thought he was still part of me, because I had his magic. It wasn’t until I befriended it that I realized that it wasn’t his. _I_ wasn’t his. So I cut him out of me.”

Andrew rested his chin on Neil’s chest, watching him through golden-tipped lashes. “So cut him out again. Ichirou may be king, but he’s not your king.”

Neil huffed and shoved at Andrew’s shoulder. Andrew yielded easily, rolling onto his back and pulling Neil with him. “He’s not yours either,” Neil murmured against the skin of his throat. “You don’t need to do his bidding if you don’t want to. You shouldn’t, if it does this to you.”

Andrew went still at that, so still Neil couldn’t feel him breathing. Neil made to get off of him, but Andrew’s hands twisted into his shirt, holding him in place. “I know what it is to be shackled,” he said, sounding as level and bored as if he was reciting a lesson in school. “I was for half a decade. We didn’t belong to ourselves; we had everything we were stripped from us.” He took a deep breath, and Neil felt his body relax as he let it out. “I’m not going to the mage camp for Ichirou.”

Neil leaned in, brushed his lips against Andrew’s briefly, feather-light. “You have a fondness for freeing caged things.”

Andrew kissed him back, slowly, lingering, until the sun sank behind the trees and the first stars began to decorate the sky.

* * *

Neil waited.

He could feel Andrew through the bond, almost as strongly as if he were there with him. He could feel the heat of Andrew’s rage as if it were lava, bubbling up and threatening to spill over. He could feel the ocean of his grief, and it was not merely for what Andrew saw laid out before him, the barracks of young mages obedient to their dampers that Robin and Jeremy had described. He could feel the longing, an echo of his own.

Neil talked with Thea and discussed the harvest, the winter management of the estate, the workers and the children whose lives depended upon the land on which he stood, all stark and plain against the background of feelings that both were and were not his own.

He walked with Kevin and ate his meals with Renee and read in the evenings and dreamed of racing the wind with Andrew at his side.

And still he waited.

* * *

_Death,_ the air whispered in Neil’s ear as he wandered through the deerpark. His heart leaped into his throat, and he swallowed it down. He could still feel Andrew down the bond, as strong and vital as always.

A messenger had arrived the evening before. They would arrive at the estate the following night, Ichirou and Andrew, and Robin and Jack. Most of the captive mages were with them. Ichirou’s letter did not say more, and Neil and Kevin had exchanged looks but had not voiced the question.

_She waits,_ the air murmured, and Neil faltered in his steps. Lola must have ridden ahead. He wondered that Ichirou had allowed it. Or perhaps…

Perhaps he had sent her here.

Neil sang to the air, and he could feel another voice, flat and dull. Another Air mage, dampened, no doubt brought along to counter his power. He let them have the air. For now.

He knew where she would be. There was a spot in the gardens where nothing grew, where the gardeners still did not dare to tread, where the soil was gray with ash. Neil imagined he could still smell his father’s smoke when he approached, and he checked his hands for soot before he remembered himself. His feet slowed of their own accord, and he had to fight the urge to run from here, to get on Tilka and flee to Andrew, or to Palmetto, or to the sea.

But there were too many here Lola could harm. So he squared his shoulders, and kept going forward.

She was there, as he knew she’d be; a dark-eyed, dark-haired mage at her side. Just the one, Neil noted; she must be powerful, if Lola thought she could counter Neil alone and dampered. A smile spread slowly across Lola’s blood-red lips as she took in Neil. “You are as foolish as your mother ever was, aren’t you, Junior.”

The Air mage struck, quick and hard; he felt the pressure drop, and his lungs catch, and it reminded him of sparring with Allison and he almost wanted to grin as he sang his silent song to counter.

Heat flooded his veins, and he welcomed it, sang to it, allowed it to feed his power. “Oh, my mother was much smarter than I am. But even I am not stupid enough to try to play a Life mage for a fool.” A gamble, that Lola was not acting on the king’s orders, but something in her eyes told him it was the truth.

Lola’s nostrils flared. “Ichirou didn’t need me to play him,” she sneered. “He was born that way. No ambition, no vision for what he could have. And he still doesn’t suspect.”

Neil gave a startled laugh. “You must be mad if you believe that.”

“He arrested his brother and his uncle, but I walk free.” She gave an eloquent shrug. “Death powers counter Life powers.”

Neil hadn’t known that. Not that Ichirou needed magic to detect Lola’s lies, but he wouldn’t act without proof, that much he had shown. Death magic was so rare that it had barely been mentioned in his spotty education. He probably should’ve asked Kevin at some point, any point, but right now he wished nothing more than to have Kevin stay ensconced in the library where Neil had left him.

He longed to strike his flint, but the Air mage was blocking him from Lola. There was a strange sort of current, a shield between them, and he wondered what it would do to the flame. He had no wish to risk the other mage, not unless she left him no choice.

“But you’ve been stealing children long before Ichirou came to power,” Neil said, watching the Air mage’s expression out of the corner of his eye.

“You make it sound like petty theft,” Lola scoffed.

“I thought that was nicer than saying you murdered their families and abducted them, but whatever you prefer.”

The air current wavered slightly.

“Ignore his lies, Alvarez,” Lola hissed. Neil struck then, with air and flame, seeking to push the Air mage aside with the force of it. But though she staggered under the blow, she was able to parry it, and the flames shot upward to scorch the sky.

Lola tsked. “I spent decades with your father, did you think I learned nothing?”

“I wasn’t sure you were capable of learning, to be honest.”

He used the other mage’s own air current to bend a jet of fire around her; it reached Lola only to hit a second barrier inches from her skin, and he cursed under his breath as the flames bounced off her. He kind of wanted to ask the mage how she managed that, two discrete shells of protection, but then he got hit by a blast of air and decided it could wait.

They continued on, strike and parry, strike and parry. Lola tried to reach him, lunging for him, her deadly hand stretching out, but he sent her reeling back with a jet of blue fire. “Why do you wish to kill me?” he asked conversationally.

She laughed. “You need to ask that?”

He shrugged as he parried another blow from the Air mage. She was weakening, he noticed, or perhaps it was something else; he didn’t miss the way she was watching Lola. “What am I to you?” And then he grinned. “Is this because I wouldn’t bed you?”

The Air mage dropped her hands entirely at that, and he sent a lick of flame in Lola’s direction only to have it smothered just as it singed her clothes. Something moved in the far corner of the ash field, where the brambles and thorn bushes formed a vicious hedge, but Neil couldn’t spare it a glance.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Lola snapped. “I was your father’s second. Did you think he would have let you live, after you undermined all we had worked to do?”

Neil froze. “This was my father’s doing?”

That cruel smile curved her lips. “As foolish as your mother.”

Before she could move, a jet of water hit her in the back, sending her sprawling. Renee stood in the center of the ash field, hands raised. Lola pushed up onto her knees, shooting Renee a venomous glare. “This has nothing to do with you, mercenary.”

“Doesn’t it?” Renee asked. “I make it my business when children are taken and their lives are no longer their own, Lady.”

“I’m sorry to interrupt whatever this is.” The Air mage—Alvarez—gestured between Renee and Neil. “You both said—we were taken? But my parents died, I had nowhere else to go.”

“What did they die of?” Renee asked, and though her voice was gentle there was steel beneath the words.

“A sudden illness. I don’t really remember, it was a long time ago.” Alvarez’s eyes widened, and she looked back to Lola like she had never seen her before. She reeled back one step, two; and as Lola got to her feet, the mage’s hands dropped.

“I’m sorry,” Renee said, and Neil wasn’t sure to whom she was speaking. Renee clapped her hands, and the skies practically screamed as she tore the water from them, pouring it into Lola’s gasping mouth, up her nose, forcing it into her lungs until she collapsed onto the ground, eyes glassy and unseeing, gurgling her last breath into the ash.

“Um.” The dark-haired mage was staring down at Neil, who blinked up at her as he realized he had somehow ended up on his knees. “She’s—dead. Lola is—that’s a dead person.”

Neil nodded numbly.

“So. Dead person. Dead person, right there. Dead person that I’ve known for—she killed my family? Is that what you said?”

Renee wrapped a careful arm around her shoulders. “Most likely, yes. Though there may have been others who did their dirty work, not just Lola.”

Alvarez nodded vigorously. “Right. I, um. Can we not stand here right next to the dead person?”

Neil dragged himself to his feet and stumbled after Renee as she led Alvarez towards the house. Kevin and Thea were hurrying across the lawn towards them; Kevin caught Neil in his arms and steadied him. “What happened?”

“Lola,” Neil gritted out.

Thea’s face hardened and she gripped Neil’s shoulder almost tight enough to bruise. “Did that bitch hurt you?”

“No.” Neil laughed then; it sounded almost like a sob. “No.”

Somehow he found himself bundled into a comfortable chair in the library, a cup of tea steaming in his hands. The Air mage was similarly situated, her teacup rattling in its saucer as she met Neil’s eyes. “I’m sorry,” Alvarez said abruptly. “She used to come and help with the training. She told me…” She waved a hand, and her breath caught, and then she was weeping.

Renee perched on the arm of her chair, murmuring something soothing that Neil couldn’t quite catch. Neil didn’t know where to look. Pain was emanating off Alvarez in waves, and all he wanted to do was lose himself in Andrew’s arms.

Neil tugged lightly on the bond, just to feel Andrew tugging back, close and getting closer. Soon enough. He had managed this long; he could wait these few more hours.

He closed his eyes and tried to reconcile himself to this new reality, in which the monsters that lurked around every corner of his mind were nothing more than dust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And only the epilogue remains! Can't believe it's almost done! I have adored seeing all the reactions to this strange world with its musical magic, and I can't wait to see what you think of this chapter, with Ichirou and Lola and Tetsuji. Thank you so much for the response, and see you in 2 days with the final chapter!


	13. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a homecoming, and a new beginning.

The chestnuts were falling.

There was a strange pang in Neil’s chest as they began the descent into the valley, the ground beneath the horses’ hooves splashed with yellow leaves like paint from a careless brush. In the distance, he could see the hayfields turned over for the winter, resting under their green blanket of vetch. He glanced at Andrew, at the fatigue weighing down the corners of his lips and dragging at his eyes. Though the sun hung low in the sky, they would not stop again tonight.

Faint murmurings sounded, a current of voices swirling around him. He glanced over his shoulder at Robin and Laila the Earth mage, who were laughing at Alvarez where she drooped over the neck of her horse between them. He would’ve thought it was some sort of miracle keeping her in the saddle, were it not for the fact that he could hear the air’s song shift and dance under Robin’s influence.

It was Kevin’s doing that the mages were with them. Ichirou had granted all of them the option of returning to their homes, attending the school that he and Kevin had graduated from, or receiving funds to travel to wherever they wished. A handful had chosen to go home, including Jack, to Neil’s relief. The majority, rocked by the discovery that their rings suppressed the full glory of their magic, opted for school. But Robin, Alvarez and Laila had looked wistfully at the Palmetto mages, and Kevin had procured them horses and brought them along.

Judging by the muscle twitching in Kevin’s jaw at another peal of laughter, Neil suspected he was questioning his decision.

The moon had risen by the time the castle came into view. Tilka pricked her ears, a new spring in her step as they wound their way down the streets of the town and through the castle gates. Renee gave a tiny sigh as they approached the welcoming lights of the castle, and when Neil glanced over her eyes were tear-bright where she stared up at their home.

The chatter behind him drifted to a stop. “Wow,” Alvarez said. “And I thought your house in Ravenar was big. I guess you did marry up.”

Robin choked on her spit, and Neil grinned as he nudged Andrew with his foot before dismounting. “I did.”

Andrew elbowed him lightly. “Which one of us was born on a fancy estate and which one was born in a literal gutter?”

“Were you?” Alvarez asked. “Is that why you’re so short?” A stone popped up under her foot, sending her stumbling into a bush. Laila muffled a laugh while she helped her partner up, grinning at the glower Alvarez sent in Andrew’s direction.

The castle door swung open before she could retaliate, releasing a stream of welcoming mages. Allison was first, sweeping Renee into her arms; then Aaron and Katelyn, and Dan and Matt, and Betsy and Abby and Wymack, until they were all surrounded in a sea of warm hugs and hoarse greetings. Neil freed himself from Matt and looked up to see silhouettes in the doorway: Jean and Jeremy, hanging back. He made an exasperated noise and beckoned to Jean, but his friend only had eyes for Kevin.

One loud squeal nearly deafened him, and he was shoved aside as Alvarez ran to throw herself on Jeremy. Laila was close on her heels, laughing and crying as the two of them nearly took Jeremy off his feet. They crashed into a bemused Jean, who steadied them automatically, his hand lingering on Jeremy’s back. Kevin detangled himself gently from Abby, squared his shoulders, took an audible breath, and walked over to Jean.

If Neil’s eyes stung as Kevin folded Jean into his arms and didn’t let go, nobody needed to know.

The night passed in a blur of food and chatter. Renee told the story of their visit to Ichirou: the way they had had to bribe and then threaten his guards to even let them pass a message to him, the impassiveness with which he had listened, the waiting, waiting while he mulled over the information they provided. Then his cautious admission of his own suspicions, in a tiny windowless room with no one else to hear, not trusting even his own guards. Neil twitched in his seat when she mentioned Lola’s unsubtle threats. Even now, weeks after her death, he still had to choke down bile when he thought of her near Andrew, how she could have taken his life force at any moment with just a brush of her hand.

Andrew pressed his knee against Neil’s underneath the table. This meal could not end soon enough.

Then it was Kevin’s turn. Cashew preened when Kevin explained his role as a spy, how he had slipped into the estate via the woods and overheard Riko talking to Robin and Jack about the impending attack from foreign mages.

Robin glanced up from where she was toying with her silverware. She started to open her mouth before closing it and giving her head a tiny shake, but Betsy raised a hand to signal Kevin to pause.

“What did you wish to say?” she asked Robin gently.

Robin gulped. “Nothing, ma’am.”

“Are you sure? We would love to hear what you and—Jack, was it? What you and Jack were told.”

Robin mumbled something unintelligible.

“I’m sorry,” Betsy said cheerfully. “I didn’t catch that.”

“Prince Riko claimed Lord Nathan had named him his heir, after you left,” she said, with an apologetic glance at Neil. “He said you were an invader, coming to usurp his position.”

Neil stared blankly at Robin until Aaron suddenly broke the silence with a bark of laughter.

“I guess you managed that,” he said, raising his glass to Neil.

Andrew had heard the rest of the story already, but he still squeezed Neil’s hand almost painfully as Kevin finished his tale, with input from Neil, Renee and Alvarez. The revelation about Nathan’s role behind the entire plot almost caused Neil’s dinner to reappear. Perhaps the exclamations of the others at Lola’s demise should have been gratifying; Neil just felt numb. The weeks that had passed had mostly made it easier to accept that Lola and Patrick and Nathan were gone and Andrew remained. But there were still times that it felt like a long strange dream from which he would wake to find his mother hissing at him to once again disappear.

The bond tugged, then tugged again. Andrew leaned over to murmur something in his ear to make heat rise in his face, and he wished even more fervently for the meal to end.

Eventually everyone was talked out. There would be more conversations in the days to come, more questions and strategizing. For though the alliance with Ichirou was stronger than ever, nobody was convinced that the threat to his throne was over. Nathan’s spiderweb of allies and hate had spread farther than anyone had realized, and though the main threads had been cut chances were some remained.

As the party broke up, Neil noticed that Kevin somehow ended up in a little huddle with Jean and Jeremy. The Life mage was talking earnestly, a cautious smile tugging at his lips as his fingers linked with Jean’s. Kevin looked stunned, and Neil nudged Andrew, gesturing to them with his chin.

Andrew watched for a moment, his eyes crinkling slightly in amusement. “That ought to keep him busy,” was all he said, before taking Neil’s hand and leading him away.

The night air greeted him as he crawled out onto the roof, the chill welcome after the heat of the hall. Andrew flopped next to him, tilting his head back to study the stars. They had shifted in the time they were away, summer giving way to the inevitability of winter. And yet, still familiar. They felt like old friends, the only ones Neil had kept from Ravenar to across the sea and back again.

“Do you ever wonder what happened to your family?” he asked Andrew.

Andrew raised one eyebrow. “They’re all downstairs.”

Neil tapped his shin with his foot. “The people who were responsible for the accident of your birth, then.”

Andrew snorted. “I stopped caring when Aaron and I were sent to the first person to hand over a few gold coins.”

Neil hummed. A cloud drifted across the silver moon. “I just wonder. With what happened to Alvarez’s family, and Robin.”

“Don’t waste your concern. Our mother never gave a shit about us, she just didn’t have the money to go to a healer to have the pregnancy relieved.” The sky brightened as the moon emerged, and Andrew was so still he looked like he had been turned to stone. “We had a cousin. His parents were no better than ours. We don’t know where he ended up, even Wymack couldn’t find him.”

Neil hovered a hand over Andrew’s face, and after a moment Andrew nodded. Neil traced a finger lightly over his profile, memorizing the plane of his forehead, the little dip between his eyes, the ridge of his nose. He reached the soft curve of his lips, and Andrew kissed the pads of his fingers. “Would you want to see him? If you could find him?”

Andrew shrugged, the stone of his shoulders giving way to flesh and blood. But the Earth’s magic was calling out a mournful song, and Neil could feel the longing in his bones. _I will help you find him_ , he murmured down the bond, and though Andrew gave no indication that he heard there were a few hopeful notes that called out to the air and the fire.

When they started shivering they climbed back through the window into the welcoming warmth of the library. A merry fire greeted them, dancing in the hearth, casting a rosy glow across the carpet and gilding the titles of the books that lined the walls. Andrew slid his hand up the back of Neil’s neck, his mouth chasing away the chill on Neil’s lips.

“Andrew,” Neil murmured, dazed.

Andrew took a step backwards, towards the door that was tucked into an alcove in the wall. The door Neil had never been through. There was a question in his eyes, flickering brown and gold in the firelight, and in the way his fingers were twisted in Neil’s shirt, ready to let go at the slightest resistance.

It felt like the ground was shifting under his feet; it felt like falling, and it felt like holding on.

He took a step forward, and another. Andrew pulled him into a bruising kiss as they stumbled through the doorway, his music calling out a melody and Neil’s responding with the counterpoint.

Neil looked around the room. It was more comfortable than opulent, with books overflowing every available surface, an overstuffed chair by the fireplace, and an enormous bed with a soft-looking duvet piled high with pillows. But none of that could hold his attention. Not when he could feel everything Andrew couldn’t say, as strong as a heartbeat down the bond.

Andrew cupped his face in his hands and brushed careful lips against his cheeks, his temples, his eyelids. Neil shivered and let his forehead rest against Andrew’s, and he felt more than heard the words Andrew whispered.

“Welcome home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welp, here it is in its entirety! I hope you've enjoyed reading as much as I've enjoyed sharing this with you! I want to again thank the incredible mods, Nikotheamazingspoonklepto, gluupor, and leahelisabeth, for doing such a great job running this (and accidentally inspiring me to participate), and my artists nerdzeword and llheji for helping the fic come to life. And also, thank you to those who have read this, whether chapter by chapter as I posted or binging all at once. You're the reason I bother posting what I write, and I can't explain what it means to see your thoughts and reactions to it. It's what makes fandom experience worthwhile for me, and I adore all of you.

**Author's Note:**

> Well here we go! I am very excited to see what you all think of this, it's a bit of a departure for me but despite the setting and the fact that there's actually a plot, this is very much a me-fic. I adore comments, they make the writer's world go round! And though replying gives me some anxiety I will do my best, and definitely will try to answer any questions about the fic or the world or my thought process. And HMU anytime [on Tumblr](http://fuzzballsheltiepants.tumblr.com/)


End file.
